Invictus
by Ryka Spar
Summary: Naliana, raised among Wardens was at Ostagar when they fell. Enraged at the death of those she cared about, she agrees to join the two surviving Wardens, bent on revenge. However, as the journey continues, she learns she's not as alone as she thought.
1. Sleepless in Ostagar

Okay, this story may start a little slow, but it'll pick up speed as it continues, just a heads up. It may also turn into M as blood and gore come into play (you tell me), but we'll see how that goes. If anyone notices spelling errors or such, feel free to tell me. Ah, and an apology to my other story... I'm going to blame Bioware (along with Lost and Bones - just started watching) for lack of updates and not being entirely faithful. Curse you DA and ME2!

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. It belongs to Bioware.

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Invictus

_Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul._

-William Ernest Henley

She approached Ostagar by foot, staring up at the tall, crumbling buildings and towers as she walked forward. She had only to mention the Grey Wardens to get past the outmost guards and now she strode across the bridge like she had a purpose, which she did, but it certainly kept the men from approaching her.

It had been more than six moons since she had last seen her mentor. He had left her only with orders to remain in her burnt-out tower, until otherwise notified. She had received a letter less than a month later with his request for her to head south. She was to scout in the Korcari Wilds. Penetrate deep within the darkspawn ranks and report positions, numbers, and anything else of importance she was able to ascertain. Nal had been doing so since she first arrived, and as the months passed had to start avoiding the human army, for she preferred to remain unknown.

Sighing she ran a hand through her short black hair. She hadn't discovered much, the darkspawn where moving about, currently preparing for the coming battle, but other than that Nal had seen nothing to even signify it was a real blight, which had been her main objective. She had provided information that had helped the humans win the battles they had fought, but other than that, nothing.

There was _no_ visual proof to bring to the ignorant men, not that Nal needed any such proof she had felt the moment the Archdemon awoke. Its chilling call had echoed through her head, hauntingly beautiful, yet disturbing to the point Nal wish to hide somewhere safe and never show her face until this was all over. Luckily, for the humans at least, Nal had no such safe place, beyond standing beside her mentor and if he fought these monsters, so shall she.

Nal climbed the last few steps from the bridge; the guard didn't say a word and nearly recoiled from her as she quickly walked past. She had business and _no one_ was going to stop her.

Passing the guard she veered left, striding between the stonework, before it opened into a large, yet crowded courtyard filled with tents, camping fires, dog kennels, and other recently erected structures. Her visible eye darted about taking in the area, while she continued on her way. As if she was invisibly attached she maneuvered her way around people and between tents drawn to a burning pile of wood. She slowed her pace as she approached her mentor. He stood near the fire, staring contemplatively into the flames, watching and they licked at the wood, charring the brown surface.

Nal came to a halt a few feet behind the man. She slipped her pack off, depositing it upon the ground before she bowed to his back, he was one of few men she'd willingly give respect. He did not turn to acknowledge her presence, but he did speak, for he had heard her behind him.

"Is it that time already?"

"You told me to come on the day the moon was to be full," Nal straightened her back, standing to her full height. The man sighed heavily, warily. "Duncan?" He finally turned to her and took a few steps, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"It is good you are well," he commented, before he pulled his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you found anything?"

"No," Nal shook her head. "I have found nothing. The Archdemon remains underground and I'm afraid I cannot travel that far without risk of being found." Her face turned towards the direction the darkspawn where known to be, her eye staring just over Duncan's shoulder. "The creature hides. No, hide is not the proper word. It is smart and remains unseen. I do not believe it wishes us to know this is a Blight, for if we remain ignorant, it can catch us all the more unprepared." Duncan sighed once more. "It is out there. I know it."

"Yes, and I fully believe you," Duncan agreed. "However our word alone is not enough. Because it has not shown itself people feel better believing this is only a simple raid. They do not understand what Grey Wardens see."

Nal's visible eye narrowed as she refocused her sight upon her mentor. "I am not a Grey Warden and I understand," her voice while remaining emotionless had turned steely. "Mortals are fools."

"You are a different matter, Naliana, and you know such," Duncan's eyes drifted to Nal's right, and watched something going on behind her. "And do not use that word, it'll cause problems."

"Why?" Nal questioned, growing suspicious. "What's going on behind–" her sentence was choked off as strong arms wrapped around her thin form and lifted her bodily from the ground. She struggled for breath as the arms squeezed her. Nal was then dropped almost unceremoniously forcing her to stagger forward to regain her balance and nearly went head long into the fire before she did so. She straightened, let out a breath, dusted herself off, and plastered a seemingly genuine grin on to her face, before turning around to face her assaulter.

"Your Majesty." Nal prided herself on her ability to maintain her poise in every situation.

The three Warden trainees and Alistair had managed to gather together and had made their way to Duncan. Just in time to see the king nearly crush a figure before letting the same figure nearly fall into the bonfire beside Duncan. The fact that she, for they had grow close enough to tell her gender, was able to turn to the king with a straight face was surprising.

"Your Majesty," she greeted, her voice was calm and without hitch.

* * *

"Look at you," King Cailan giving the girl a grin. "You've changed since I last saw you."

"Well, yes," the woman explained, "since the last time we saw each other it was a number of years ago. It tends to happen."

"And you're still doing as well as ever," the king laughed, before sobering and plucking at the mud colored cloak she wore. "Yet, you're still wearing these rags. Duncan you should clothe your wards better."

"I like 'these rags,' your Majesty." The woman defended. "They were made for me. I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult them." The king held up his hands in mock defense as he laughed again.

The four men had stopped about ten feet away from the chatting group and could see the girl more clearly than before, even if it was only from the side. Her hair was dark, cut short, like a man's, though long enough to dangle into her eyes, despite the band she wore across her forehead. She was pale, dirt smudged, thin as if she hadn't had a good meal in months, and much smaller than any of the men she stood among.

Jutting up from under her cloak, and a few feet past her head, was what seemed to be a thin, long wooden pole strapped to the back of her leather armor accompanied by two long daggers on her hip.

"Why didn't you tell us there were _women_ in the Wardens?" Daveth nearly hissed in a low whisper to Alistair.

"Because there _aren't _any," the senior Warden shot back.

"Well there's no way she can be a simple soldier," Daveth concluded. "She's talking to the king! Then again, I'd talk to someone who looks like her anytime."

Even as she spoke with the king, who was currently laughing at her again, she seemed to have noticed the four Wardens that had stopped a distance away. The girl turned her head slightly to view them better and Daveth sucked in her breath.

The band that they had seen across her brow was not meant to keep her hair out of her eyes, but was part of the sturdy leather eye patch she had covering nearly half of the left side of her face. There was another strip of leather that wrapped down and around her ear, most likely leading back up to the other, held the patch securely to her face.

Her visible eye narrowed and she studied them disapprovingly as if she had heard what they said, before she turned back to the king to reply to something he had said. Her lips twitched towards a smile before her face was school once more.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a missing eye," Daveth said as if someone had questioned his devotion. "I'm open-minded," he shrugged, "and once I talk to her, she won't be so stiff. The quiet ones are always the screamers."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Ser Jory said looking at the younger man with concern. "Women like her, the ones that have been injured that badly, tend to react differently to things like that. If I were you I'd give her a large space to walk."

"That makes it all the more likely that she'll respond positively," Daveth had reclaimed his joviality. "You see most men, because of her eye, wouldn't approach her. I, however, will and–"

"So you're saying she's desperate," interjected the third recruit, Mattan, who had been nearly silent since they had first grouped together.

"Well, if you want to use such a crude description," Daveth shrugged. Mattan's face contorted as if he smelt something bad.

"You have a twisted understanding of women," Mattan stated.

"Shush," Alistair hissed, "I can't hear them."

"You'll have to excuse me your Majesty," the dark haired woman spoke blandly, "but I really must go and clean off from my travels. I'm afraid I smell too much like darkspawn for the Mabari's taste. Listen to them bark."

A dark shadow moved over and past the four Wardens as the women spoke. Glancing to their sides they caught the back side of the man that had walked past them. His heavy armor glimmered in the light and he strode past them, determination in his every stride.

"He looks pissed," Mattan whispered. "This won't end well."

"I know, why don't you use my tent," the king offered. "You'll have as much privacy as you need." Cailan never noticed the approach of his war chief; however the woman's eye had drifted over to the dark haired man moments before he spoke.

"That is highly inappropriate," he stopped besides the king, "for you to offer your tent to _her_, Cailan," Loghain spat out his reference to the girl as if it was a bad taste in his mouth. Cailan turned around to the man.

"Nonsense Loghain," Cailan slapped a hand on the large man's shoulder. "What is propriety among friends?"

"Inappropriate," the man growled, reiterating his previous statement.

"I appreciate the offer your Majesty," the woman gave a small bow to Cailan.

The blond haired man blinked half a dozen times, before he spoke. "You… accept my offer?" He still seemed confused that she had not disagreed.

"Of course. Your offer is most gracious, your Majesty." Cailan still seemed to be suffering from shock so the women continued a little farther with explanation. "I'd rather _not_ be spied upon," she sent a pointed look towards the four Wardens gathered further away. Daveth flashed a roguish grin at her before she turned away.

Cailan finally seemed to realize what she had said and he instantly brightened, a grin spreading across his face. "Come along then," Cailan placed a hand on her back, between her shoulders and guided her around. Loghain glared at the two's retreating backs, before he whirled around and stormed away.

With everyone now gone from around him Duncan gestured for the four men to approach him near the fire. On their way they passed a small pack and a bedroll leaning against a pillar, most likely belonging to the girl.

"Now that you're all here, there is something you must do," Duncan began. Alistair positioned himself in a spot where he could see the king's tent without seeming like he was watching.

The two had stopped outside the king's tent and talked a short while before Cailan pulled aside the tent flap and they both ducked inside. Alistair continued to watch the tent silently, catching only the gist of what Duncan was asking them to do.

"Three vials of blood and the documents, got it," Mattan confirmed.

The four moved away, Daveth and Jory leading. Alistair spared one more glance at the tent, just in time to see the king stumble out backwards, holding onto a set of dirty armor and being shoved fairly forcefully by a stormy-faced woman. Once Cailan was fully evicted, the girl vanished back inside. The king shook his head and walked away, heading towards the temple on the north side of camp.

"Guess that was a no," Mattan said from where he stood beside Alistair.

"Hey," Daveth, standing by the gate, shouted. "You two coming?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mattan returned, "hold your horsies. Lets get moving before Daveth throws a fit."

Alistair nodded and the two walked over to catch up.

* * *

The four Wardens had arrived back, after a interesting visit with the local apostate mage and her mother, and had been told by Duncan to await him in the ruined temple. This order also came along with a request of, "and do not wake Naliana, I believe she is resting inside."

As it turned out, she was sleeping, bedroll tucked in a corner and thin camping blanket pulled up to her head. Near her head was a sliver plate, bones and pieces of meat, chicken by the looks, left over. Leaning on the wall beside her was her armor, boots, and gloves, cleaned and now a gleaming white. Her weapons rested with her armor as well, two daggers and the dark wooden pole, strangely with a black cloth bag tied with a golden, tasseled rope over one end.

"Wonder what kind of weapon that is," Daveth murmured.

"A spear," Jory said, sure of his response.

"Too long and wide at the base," Alistair said immediately.

"Too long and wide," Jory said confused.

"Look at how much the cloth covers," Mattan began, "It's about a foot. A spear point isn't that long, or that wide. It's not a halberd either; it's too even on each side, so there's no axe. This weapon has some type of crossbar, or guard, at the end, a fairly large one by the looks."

"I'm gonna go find out," Daveth said with conviction and made his way forward. Just as he reached out to grab the pole there was abrupt movement on the ground. Something silver flashed out from where the girl slept and crashed into Daveth's shin, scattering chicken and bones everywhere, and then hitting the ground with a big clang. Daveth hopped back from the spot, cursing and clutching at his leg.

"I don't remember giving you permission to touch my equipment." The voice was smooth, without hitch, and stoic. All eyes turned to the sleeping girl. No longer did she sleep, she was sitting up, supporting herself with her right arm, brown cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Despite the emotionless way she spoke, her face looked angry, however, it could have been the surprise the four were feeling that made her more intimidating.

"You hit me with your plate," Daveth exclaimed.

"Better than my knife," was the girl's reply. Daveth had no response.

"Sorry we woke you," Mattan sincerely apologized.

Her dark, icy cold eye turned to him. "It's too loud," she said and then surprising the four again, continued. "I'm not used to the noise of people and the baying of dogs." Mattan nodded understandingly. The girl was silent for a moment, staring at the taller man. "Duncan told me to be nice to you." A strained silence met her revelation. It was Alistair brave enough, or stupid enough, to break that silence.

"Awkward," he drew out the second vowel in a sing-song tone and immediately felt the full force of the woman's iron-hard look.

"He said to behave 'properly' among all of you," the eye narrowed, "but I don't see what makes you all so special that I should act," she paused as if trying to find a word, "_civil_. However, since Duncan asked it of me, I'll do what he requests."

She turned away, climbing out of her make-shift bed. She sorted the thin blankets, evening and straightening them almost obsessively, before folding the blankets in half and rolling them tightly. Grabbing the trailing piece at the end, she wrapped it around the roll and tied the string into a knot, holding the blankets in the roll.

"So," Mattan braved, "Duncan said your name was Naliana?"

"Nal," she instantly corrected, running a hand through her hair, as she stood. Nal moved the distance to her equipment and attached the blanket roll to her small pack with another string and another durable, slightly fancy, knot.

"What's under the sack, Nal?" Daveth asked cheerily.

Nal stopped in her movement, her face turning so she could look at the dark-haired man. "Excuse me?" Daveth jerked his head towards her pole weapon. "I don't believe that's any of your concern." Nal returned to her bag, checking the pockets.

"You didn't eat much," Mattan took over and once more the woman paused and looked to the speaker. "The chicken," he clarified for her, but form her look, Nal already knew what he was talking about.

"I don't like the way it's cooked."

"Which is?"

"Roasted."

"Ah. Why not?"

"What does it matter?"

"Just making conversation," Mattan smiled at her.

"I prefer it prepared differently," she revealed.

"Like in a cook pot? Soup? Chicken soup? I like chicken soup." Her gazed turned to Alistair.

"No," she said coldly.

"What other way is… oh," Alistair trailed off. "Raw chicken is bad for you."

Nal's face twisted in obvious disgust. "I don't like it raw. What's wrong with you?" The women glared menacingly at the Warden when suddenly her face softened and her head tilted slightly to the side as she studied the man. Alistair shifted uncomfortably. She shook her head and returned to checking her pack without a word.

She made a sound of success and pulled out a small wooden box. Pulling off its lid revealed the contents of a goopy substance. Nal scraped a small amount out, rubbed it between her hands and proceeded to rub it off in her hair, spiking the short pieces up, her bangs, however, were too long and drooped a bit instead of spiking upright like the rest.

"So," Mattan grilled as she replaced the box in her bag, "how'd you meet the king?"

"Meet the what?" she answered as if she hadn't heard him.

"The king!" the warden recruit shouted. Nal flinched as if he had screamed directly into her ear.

"I've known him for awhile," she shrugged not looking at the men, "we met when I was ten, give or take."

"Give or take?" Jory injected.

"Yes, I couldn't tell you with certainty that I am twenty-four. Give or take a few months and that could make me twenty-three or twenty-five. I'm currently unaware of my birth date." Nal shrugged again. "Not that I really care."

"So that doesn't tell us how you met him," Mattan reminded of the unanswered question.

"Duncan had taken me to Denerim on business, I was sent out to practicing my letters while he talked to the king," she explained in a bored tone. "The prince, at the time, came out into the garden, looking for something or someone, and he saw me. He made a joke about me not knowing me letters. Soon after that Duncan and the king showed up. Apparently it was time for the prince's sword practice. Duncan suggested I spar with the prince, Maric thought it was a brilliant idea. When we got to the ring, with our practice weapons in hand, Cailan said he didn't want to fight a girl, so I put him on his back in three moves. That's how we met. I seem to have left an impression."

"You dropped the king?" Daveth was incredulous.

"And still can. Fighting is a simple task of understanding your opponent, everyone has a weakness. Which means," she delivered a sharp look, "I can put anyone on their back."

"And with that note," a voice spoke enthusiastically behind them, causing the five warriors to turn. "It's time to check your eye."

"Jaired," Alistair was shocked, "what are you doing here?"

"Duncan sent a runner to get me," the Warden explained. "He wanted me to check Nali's eye before the battle, whenever that may be." Jaired shrugged, walking up the ramp and setting his pack down near Nal.

"Nali?" Mattan cocked an eyebrow at the girl.

"Don't call me that," she nearly growled.

"You haven't told them your name?" Jaired asked, sitting down next to his bag and Nal.

The woman was indignant. "I told them my name."

Jaired laughed. "Don't let her fool you. Nal is only the part of her name she likes, but if Duncan catches you saying it he'll flay your skin from bone. Naliana is her _full_ name and the only thing you should call her in front of the Commander."

"Why so insistent," Jory asked, receiving a shrug from the senior Warden as he pulled out a small vial filled with a clear blue liquid.

"Because it's _proper_," Nal said, adding in a grumble, "who needs proper."

"Take it off," Jaired ordered to the woman as he moved in front of her, "and head up."

"I know the drill by now," she said, reaching up behind her head. The leather patch shifted as she worked at the straps. As she undid the latches she turned away from the other four men, forcing Jaired to follow.

"Wait," Daveth started as the eye patch came down into her lap. "I thought you lost your eye." Jaired snorted and Nal's jaw clenched before she answered.

"Who said I lost my eye?" They could see a small smile on her face, as if she found the situation amusing.

"Assuming," Jaired drawled. Tilting Nal's head back a bit further before he popped the cork on the vial. "This might sting a bit."

"You've said that every time, you know."

"And you've said _that_ every time." He poured the blue liquid into her eye. Nal hissed, sucking air between her teeth. "All done," Jaired released her chin, allowing her head to drop. She instantly pulled he sleeve over her hand and placed it against her eye, wiping at the liquid that had escaped down her face. When she pulled her sleeve away there was a dark, black stain.

"Thanks," she said looking back to the Warden. "It feels a lot better now."

"It's my job," Jaired smiled. Nal placed her patch over the eye and began to latch the straps back into place. "Oh hey," the Warden was somber now, "there's one more thing." Nal paused briefly. "Not to do with you eye," he shrugged, "not really."

"What is it?" Nal dropped her hands when she finished, strangely solemn.

Jaired pulled his pack over and dug into it, removing a box and handing it over. "I made more vials for you," Nal looked confused, so Jaired finished, rushing the explanation, babbling. "You never know what might happen in the battle, so I thought it best to be prepared, and I won't be around forever anyway, so I made you more and I wrote down the recipe," he reached into his pack again, pulling out a few sacks, "and I picked extra herbs for you too. I labeled them, so you know what they are."

"Jaired…" Nal began.

The Warden once again reached into his pack, pulling out another box. "And I made some of that tea you said you liked. You just have to drop the packets into hot water, and you'll–" Nal cut him off, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around the man.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything you've ever done for me." When Nal pulled away she noticed Jaired's cheeks began to burn red. "You're a true friend."

Jaired suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "I should get going," he grabbed his pack and stood, Nal standing with him. "I'd say take care, but knowing you you'll have the darkspawn running back to their tunnels when they see you on the field." Nal gave a short laugh.

"They only run 'cause they're afraid of–"

"Ho, Nal!" A voice called over hers. Jaired took his chance, with a quick 'see you around,' he vanished down the ramp and out of the temple passing the king on his way. She sighed.

"How many times have I told you _not_ to greet me with 'ho'? How would you like it if I called you 'man whore,' every time I saw you?" Nal admonished lightly. The king only laughed while Nal turned her back to him, grabbed her leather armor and hurled it his way. Cailan caught it easily. "Help me put it on."

The dark-haired woman turned around once more to her equipment. Nal jammed her feet into her boots, bending down to properly tighten them. Quickly pulling on her gloves she grabbed her daggers attached to her belt and swung it over her shoulders. Hands free, she picked up her pole weapon and pack, and then walked away from the four men.

Just before walking down the ramp to where the king waited for her, she paused and turned around. "Daveth," she surprised the rogue with knowing his name, "I would like to apologize for throwing the plate at you." She gave him a small bow.

"Uh, yeah," he stuttered, but quickly picked up with a sly grin. "Not a problem, you wouldn't believe what women throw at me."

"Here," Nal hoisted her weapon, "Sate your curiosity." She tossed the weapon to the man, who caught the nicely thrown weapon. "Just put it back the way it came." He nodded and Nal moved down the ramp to the king, standing close.

"Wow," Cailan spoke quietly to his friend, smiling, "and here you usually have a fit if anyone gets to close. Why so nice?" When she didn't answer immediately the king grew somber. "What'd you see?"

Nal sighed before she answered. "He won't survive this. He has the desire, the will, but not the strength."

"Surely the battle against the darkspawn won't go _that_ poorly." Nal only gave him a small smile and said no more.

"Hey, hey Nali!" Such addressed woman sighed, before turning to Daveth, the one who had shouted. "You fight with this thing?" He lifted the glaive up, its metal point glistening almost dangerously. "It's a little ornate, don't you think, with that gold dragon on it?"

"Yes, I fight _very well_ with it," she answered his first question. "And it's not _that_ ornate, yes it is pretty, but it punches through darkspawn as well as any blade."

"I want to see you fight with this thing," Daveth said as her pulled the black cloth bag over the point, tying the golden tassels – much more crudely than Nal ever would – and tossed it, poorly, back to the woman.

"I do not fight to dazzle and entertain," she said dancing back, eyes on the flying glaive. Nal reached up, catching near the bottom on the pole, she allowed the weight of the point to continue downward, falling behind her back. She then hooked her elbow around a point higher on the wooden pole, jerking her arm forward, swinging the end around her. As the end passed in front of her she grabbed the middle, shifting her hand into a proper hold as it swung before her. The wooden staff slammed into her back, stopping the momentum abruptly, the point, covered, faced slightly off to her right.

"Gentlemen," she nodded her head to the Wardens before she turned and walked off, the king beside her.

"Hypocrite," Cailan quipped, "that was both dazzling _and _entertaining."

Nal made a short, impatient noise. "I don't know what you're talking about." The dark-haired woman rolled her aching shoulders and as they shifted the dark golden, almost brown, cloak moved as well, slightly out of sync.


	2. You've Got Darkspawn

I decided to post up the second chapter with the first... dunno why, just felt like it, I guess.

Um, I hope you enjoy, there is blood in the chapter, so, yeah.

* * *

Invictus

_In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeonings of chance  
My head is bloody, but unbowed._

-William Ernest Henley

Cailan had left, after he helped her with her armor, Nal hadn't asked to where. The leathers were near impossible to put on by oneself with the latches and straps concentrated on the back. But he'd be back for the meeting, endearingly overconfident.

Now, Nal stood atop the ruined walls of the temple, walking back and forth. Below her, a wooden table, the war meeting was meant to start soon and Nali felt somewhat restless, as a distant humming stirred within her. She wasn't sure if it was due to the gathering darkspawn or the knowledge that the Joining was also about to take place, perhaps both. The woman sighed, stopping her pacing and running a finger along her eye patch, where it met skin – a nervous habit she had formed as a child.

A sensation pulled in her gut. Nal turned away from the sunset and looked towards the entrance. Duncan walked in, chalice in hand; he spared a quick glance for Naliana, as he moved to the warden recruits, partitioned off by a few pillars making them difficult to see. Nal sighed and shook her head; once more rubbing at the place where leather met skin.

She never liked the Joining, the concept sent chills down her spine and Nal was glad that Duncan had argued that point to the Wardens of Weisshaupt. After all, being born with the taint, made the Joining somewhat redundant. The only thing it would have done was cut her life short, if it affected her at all.

Nal closed her eyes and listened. Standing there in the quiet, she could hear the muffled din of camp and if she listened hard enough she thought she could almost hear the words being spoken on the other end of the temple. Though perhaps it was only her mind that spoke the words she knew were being said.

"_Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."_

She breathed in deep, holding the breath as long as she could before releasing the air in a rush. At the ring of metal, her eyes shot open and she turned her head to where the Joining was taking place. Someone had resisted, had refused, and had been killed; she raised her head, looking to the sky, focusing on a constellation not yet out.

"May he be carried into the heavens upon your back, great Lusacan," she uttered the short prayer in reverence. Though, she supposed after the prayer, whoever had been killed probably wouldn't have appreciated it since it was not to the Maker. Nal gave a short shrug; one of the other Wardens had probably taken care of that anyway.

There were a few minutes of silence before the sound of footsteps came to Nal's ears. Entering the temple was Cailan, he hailed her briefly with a raised hand before Loghain marched in, drawing the king towards the meeting table. Following shortly after came a mage and then the Reverend Mother. They began to converse, when another sound came to Nal's ears.

Coming from the other end of the temple was Duncan, Alistair, and the newest Warden, Mattan. Nal nodded her conformation; she knew he would survive the Joining, though he did look a little worse for wear. The blond Warden broke off from the other two, leaving the temple. As two men passed, Mattan looked up and met her eye. He watched her for a couple of seconds, staring like he wasn't quite sure what to make of Nal, before he passed with Duncan, and joined the council.

She made her way down the ruined wall, growing closer to the council so she could listen.

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves," Loghain looked furious as he growled his words.

"It is _not_ a 'fool notion," Cailan defended. "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past… and you will remember who is king."

Loghain turned away, rubbing his head as if it ached. "How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!"

"Then our current forces will have to suffice won't they?" Cailan said before turning to the Senior Warden. "Duncan, are you're men ready for battle?"

"They are, your Majesty," Duncan nodded.

"And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road?" Cailan faced Mattan. "I understand congratulations are in order."

Mattan bowed slightly. "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks."

Nal sighed as Loghain's became stormy. "Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing Cailan. We must attend to reality."

"Fine," the king shrugged. "Speak your strategy. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?"

Loghain and Cailan both leaned over then map pinned to the table. "You will alert the tower to light the beacon," the older man spoke, "signaling my men to charge from cover."

"To flank the darkspawn," Cailan became excited, over speaking the end of Loghain's sentence, "I remember. This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light the beacon?"

"I have a few men stationed there." Loghain straightened. 'It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital."

"Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it is done."

"I'll do my best, your Majesty," Mattan gave another bow.

"You rely on these Grey Wardens too much." Loghain growled angrily. "Is that truly wise?"

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain," Cailan dismissed the man's words. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from."

"Your Majesty," Duncan spoke, "you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing."

"There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds," Loghain reported.

"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?" Cailan asked.

"I… yes, your Majesty," Duncan agreed.

The mage moved forward. "Your Majesty, the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi–"

"We will not trust any lives to your spells mage!" The Reverend Mother cut him off. "Save your spells for the darkspawn!" Nal felt dislike rise up inside her. She _hated_ Chantry biddies, every last one.

"Enough!" Loghain snapped, stopping the two bickering. "This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon."

Cailan became ecstatic once more. "Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!"

Loghain moved away, raising his voice to be heard. "Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all." Loghain left with no other words, followed quickly by the Reverend Mother and then the mage, trailing at least a good ten feet behind.

"Don't you think this is a grand plan," the king turned, looking up to his friend, armored in white leather.

Nal dropped off the side, landing inside the temple, bending her knees to absorb the impact. "Sure, as good as any plan before battle."

"Always the pessimist," Cailan chided.

"Someone has to be," she shrugged. "I'll wait for Duncan."

"No, go ahead with the king," the Warden said. "I wish to speak with Mattan and Alistair before they head to the tower."

Nal bowed her head to her mentor, accepting his decision. "Lead the way," she gestured forward, stepping into position beside Cailan. The two drastically different people moved one their way, heading for the battlefield. His guards fell into step around them.

"I cannot wait for the battle to arrive. It's occurred to me that I've never seen you _truly_ fight with your glaive. I've only seen you practice," the king spoke excitedly. "I look forward to seeing your battle prowess."

"My abilities are meant for killing. That is nothing to be excited about," Nal reminded the man beside her.

"Come now, you are to kill darkspawn, do not be so depressing, Nali."

The woman let out a sigh of long suffering. "Very well, but do not expect me to skip down to the battlefield with you. I have to draw the line somewhere, darkspawn or no."

"I would expect nothing less from you," Cailan thumped her back, causing her to jerk forward and release another sigh.

"Keep it up; you'll break my back, and then we'll see how you fair on the battlefield without me to save your hide." Her blonde friend only laughed as they walked down to the field.

Duncan joined the two just before they joined the men on the front line. Together the three, made their way down a raised section of earth a wall of Ostagar on their right, elevating them above most of the army. Half way down, lightning flashed and rain poured down causing the Mabari to begin barking.

"The plan _will_ work, you Majesty," Duncan reassured, not that Cailan needed such assurances.

"Of course it will." Cailan said in a determined voice. "The Blight ends here."

"Well, _something _will definitely end here," Nal injected, causing Cailan to scoff as her pessimism.

The small group stopped a few feet from the dirt ramp that led down into the main field. There, they waited. It was only minutes before movement could be spotted in the trees across the clearing. Emerging from between the trees was a horde of darkspawn, hundreds, it not nearing a thousand, fog swirling around their feet. Grunting and growling could be heard form the group, light from the many torches reflecting off drawn weapons. All the darkspawn stopped, except one, which moved forward, before the army and walked onto an exposed rock. The Alpha looked side-to-side as the horde roared, crashing their blades against armor, creating terrible sounds.

Nal scoffed at their attempt of intimidation, though it seemed to be working on the humans below her. She unhooked her glaive from her back, swinging it in front of her. She pulled the tassel knot, which had been redone from Daveth's – may his soul rest in peace – shoddy tie, and peeled off the black sack that protected the blade. From there she rested the butt of the wood on the ground.

It stood at least six feet tall, towering by nearly a foot over the small woman that wielded the weapon. The shaft was made of dark wood and at its tip a large wavering blade protruded from dragon-shaped guard, wings spread wide. She lifted the weapon and spun it above her head before bringing it down once more and slamming the base of the wooden pole onto the ground. "Breath my dragon!" Nal called loudly. The blade glowed bright orange seconds before a flame erupted upwards into the sky, billowing out in imitation of dragon's fire.

The fire raced skyward, the sides stretching away from the main body of flames, revealing a triangular head. When the fire was twenty feet above their heads, the dragon-imitation arched its neck, facing its eyes down, and opened its mouth. Red hot flames drifting out and up. A few soldiers, most likely Grey Wardens – for they had seen her do that move before – shouted and cheered at her return fire. Pun intended. It slowly faded out of existence as the rain punched holes through its body of fire.

"Show off," Cailan muttered. Nal turned back to look at him and laughed.

"Jealous that you don't have a flaming sword?" Nal got out between her peals of laughter. "I can light it on fire should you like."

"I'll pass," he moved up to stand beside his friend. "Knowing you, you'll light my personal effects ablaze as well."

"Too late," Nal choked out from her loud laughter. Cailan smiled and shook his head. Nal calmed and nudged his leg with the wooden end of her weapon.

They looked back in time to see the Alpha lift his sword and jerk it forward. The horde roared and charged. "So it begins," she heard Cailan murmur as he watched the rushing darkspawn. When the horde had gone a forth of the field Cailan began to give orders to the army.

"Archers!" he called loudly over the rain. Movement rippled through the army as the archers lifted their bows, strung the arrows, and drew back, holding that position as they waited for their captain to give the order to fire. When the signal was given, the archers fired in near unison. The flaming arrows soared through the sky, arching across the field, before they sailed down piercing through darkspawn armor. The monsters scream as blood spurted from the wounds and fell to the ground.

"Hounds!" The king cried. Barking filled the air as the Mabari were released to charge the coming horde. The painted dogs ran down the field meeting the darkspawn with howls, barks, growls, and a few whines from the ones that received injuries.

"For Ferelden!" Cailan shouted, giving the signal for the army to rush forward. The humans did so with shouts and screams. Arrows from the archers filled the sky once more, and the darkspawn returned fire, with arrows of their own, along with flaming rocks, launched high overhead, crashing into the stone of Ostagar, taking down parts of the walls and towers. The sound of battle filled the air and the feel of the darkspawn taint reverberated through her body.

It only took a few minutes for the first of the darkspawn to get through the human ranks and into the narrow neck leading to Ostagar.

"Now its my turn!" Nal shouted.

"Nal! Wait!" Cailan called, making a grab for her.

With a whoop, she ran to the edge of the raise launched herself off. She whirled her glaive around, point the blade down and aiming for the Hurlock below her. The silver blade slammed into its head with a sick crack. Brains and blood squirted everywhere, splattering her pristine armor with red and grey. The Hurlock crumpled to the ground, Nal on top of the creature. She rolled with the impact, using the momentum to pull out the glaive buried deep in its thick skull, the sound of metal shearing against bone marked her success.

Getting to her feet, Nal swung her weapon, catching a second darkspawn in the throat, opening a gapping hole that release blood down the Genlock's front. Its scream was gurgled as it fell to the ground in a heap. The second Genlock paused looking at the glaive wielding woman for a moment before it charged. The monster received a blade through its chest for its troubles and stumbled forward before dropping as Nal jerked her weapon back.

Nal had no clue how long it took, or how it happened, but she soon found herself fighting near Cailan and Duncan. The King making wide, arcing swings, hitting multiple darkspawn at the same time, while Duncan, made smaller slashing blows with his sword. The woman had a wide birth around her, keeping distance between her and the darkspawn, for should Nal lose the space, she would no longer be able to properly move her long weapon, and be quickly overwhelmed.

Though, Nal was finding herself making sharp, bone-cracking blows behind herself with the butt of her glaive, in between fast, darting attacks with the blade before her, in order to keep darkspawn approaching from behind away.

A cheer suddenly went up, and Nal glanced to the Tower of Ishal, blocking a darkspawn's sword on the hard wood of her weapon. The beacon at the top of the tower had been lit and was burning brightly. The flames licking at the sky. The cheer went up a second time. Reinforcements were coming. The battle would be over soon.

She planted her feet and swung her glaive as hard as she could. The flat of the blade caught a Genlock in the side of the head sending it stumbling into a second, ending in them booth on the ground, where she neatly finished to two off. After the attack Nal found herself with a slight reprieve.

Looking around, she spotted Cailan and Duncan both heavily surrounded, however, the Warden was making quicker work of the darkspawn, so she made her move to Cailan. Delivering a quick blow to a Hurlock that stood in her way, she darted across the field. The king swung his sword in a large arc, creating an opening at his back. A Hurlock, moved in to attack. Nal let her legs go out from under her, sliding on the slick mud to get under Cailan's swing. She forced the stop with her feet and her glaive snaked forward and up, punching into the soft spot between the lower jaw. Blood, ran down her blade, dripping off the dragon's wings.

"Maker! Don't do that!" Cailan shouted over the sounds of battle, glancing behind at Nal. The wooden butt shot out, flaying just past his face. There was a nauseating crunch as the pole broke the Hurlock's skull in to pieces. It fell to the ground, face crushed, blood oozing from its mouth, and dead.

In the slight lull in battle now around the pair, Nal puckered her lips and blew Cailan a kiss, before winking and darting off into another group of gathering darkspawn. Her glaive snaked out, catching one in the chest, when a feeling similar to a whispering in her ear came from behind. Nal flipped her glaive and struck hard. The silver blade sheared through the darkspawn's armor and pierced its flesh, burying its sharp point into the creature's heart, before being removed in a spray of red.

A Genlock came at her from the front and once more she flipped her glaive, swinging it down and then up in a continuous arc from behind, the red tip scraping across the wet earth. The blade caught the Genlock in the jaw and with a snap passed though the bone and split its face nearly in half. Red and grey once again splattered on her skin and armor.

Nal paused, all the darkspawn around her dead, she took a couple of deep breaths, becoming exhausted from the fighting. She glanced down the narrow neck of the battlefield she was on, looking into the dark and deeper into the battleground. Where were Loghain's reinforcements? Why had they not arrived, they should have slaughtered the darkspawn from behind. Then it dawned on her, the only reason _why_ they weren't here. Loghain had abandoned them. He had abandoned everyone here. They'd been condemned them to death.

Rage boiled within Nal, but was quickly snuffed as a nauseated feeling came over her. It felt like snakes were inside her, coiling, twisting, and worming in a big giant knot within her stomach. Nal tasted bile in the back of her throat.

"_Move in from behind. Kill him. Kill them. KILL THEM ALL!"_ The whisper she picked up sent chills through her body. It was coming from behind, yet the order was not aimed at her, it was more like Nal was listening in on a conversation. A towering shadow flashed before her eyes, a brief vision of the one that received the command. The woman gasped and whirled around.

Nal had turned just in time to see Duncan hit out of the way by an ogre. The Warden vanished in the sea of swarming bodies. Nal felt as if all of her internal organs had just dropped and the nauseous feeling was passed up for sudden fear.

"Cailan, behind you!" Nal screamed loudly over battle. His eyes met her own seconds before he whirled around and made a desperate swing at the approaching ogre. It missed and the monster swept the young king up in its crushing, iron-hard grip.

Dread and desperation overcame everything in Nal, and her eyes were for the king only. She took off running, she had to get to Cailan, this couldn't happen. The first darkspawn that came across her path received a rib-breaking impact of her glaive being shoved to the guard into its chest. It went to the ground, glaive still buried deep; when a quick pull didn't get her the blade out Nal abandoned the weapon. The ogre's roar echoed over the field.

Nal was able to make it a few more feet before a second darkspawn got in her way. The Genlock growled raising its weapon to swing. Nali dodged around the blade and punched the Genlock in the face. She hardly felt the pain shooting through her hand as he fingers and knuckles broke on its hard face, but when it stumbled back, Nal was able to get past it. She looked back up to the ogre.

Apparently unimpressed with the human king, the ogre's face twisted and its hand tightened. She didn't hear the crushing of armor or the breaking of bone, but Nal was able to see the blood the oozed between the grooves of the metal armor. With one more grunt, the ogre flung its arm to the side, sending Cailan through the air.

Dropping to the ground got her out of the way of the king's flying body. She turned quick enough to see Cailan take out two soldiers, knocking them off their feet. Nal got back to her feet and was intending to take care of the ogre, but spotted Duncan charging at it, his two blades drawn, so she changed priorities.

"Cailan," she scrambled over, dropping to her knees next to him. Nal was surprised that he was still breathing, if raggedly. "Cailan."

His eyes slowly opened and met hers. His breath hitched as he coughed and choked on blood. At the feel of cold metal and a soft squeeze Nal looked down to see Cailan's gauntleted hand gently gripping hers.

"I'm sorry… Nali…" the words came out as a sigh, his eyes slid shut, and his breathing stopped. Nal didn't need to feel for a pulse, she could see the king was dead.

She didn't even notice someone dropping down next to her, but that person grabbed onto her armor, forcing her to turn, to take her eyes away from Cailan. She found herself face-to-face with Duncan. Blood covered his face, and he looked haggard, run-down, and suddenly so much older than she remembered.

"Naliana," Duncan spoke in a strong tone. "You need to get out of here. The battle is lost." The words, while she heard them, didn't register, and she turned to look bad to her blood-covered friend. Duncan jerked her back into place, and once again she was looking at her mentor. "You need to get out of here, do you understand?" When she didn't immediately respond Nal received another shake. "Do you understand?" Nal met Duncan's eyes, there was so much emotion held within them, alongside something else. Acceptance.

"Yes," Nal managed a small nod. "Yes, I understand." Duncan gave a hard shove, releasing her leathers; Nal caught herself on her elbows.

"Go," he commanded in his strong voice. "Go!"

Nal scrambled around, getting back up onto her feet and ran, stumbled a couple times. She nearly fell as she yanked her glaive out of the darkspawn she killed. Spinning it around, she hooked it back into place on her leathers and continued to run. As Nal neared the dead ogre, she slipped on the wet earth and hit the ground. As Nal raised herself back up, she caught sight of something gold and instinctively reached out, grabbing it, taking it along with her as she stood and began running again.

Reaching the other side of the field, Nal made her way up the dirt and rock rise, slipping and scraping her hands as she went. Her broken hand throbbed, though Nal still didn't know the bones had been shattered. When she reached the top, she had a straight shot for the white wall; Nal ran and leaped, just managing to hold on.

Adrenaline surged through her veins and she hauled herself up the wall, grabbing stone purchases and anything else she could gain a hold on. Nal didn't know how long it took, but her fingers where numb by the time she reached the top of the wall. She was a good deal higher now and when she turned to look below her, the army, both darkspawn and human, were nothing more than specks.

Not allowing herself to become overwhelmed, she turned back, dropping a few feet onto a small foot bridge that led to a section of Ostagar that would take her to an exit and safety. Nal took off running again, unhindered by darkspawn, for they had not reached this far into the fortress.

Still running, Nal hardly noticed she had left Ostagar and had entered the woods, but still she didn't slow. If she stopped to close the darkspawn would find her, she had to keep going, her life, quite literally, depended on continuing forward, though Nal had no idea _where_ she would go. That would be dealt with later.

As some point the adrenaline faded and Nal's pace slowed. She wasn't sure exactly where she was, but heading north seemed the wisest choice. It was the only choice really, so north she went. Then the sun rose to the east and day was in full bloom when she stumbled onto a road and a town came into view.

"_Lothering,"_ the name came to her, memories of maps and geography lessons flashed through her mind.

Nal trudged her way up into the stone entrance. As she walked down, aiming for the way into Lothering, a few dirty, leather-clad men stepped in front of her, blocking the way. She looked up, meeting the front-man's eyes, after a few seconds he looked away, but did not back down.

"If you value your lives," Nal growled, putting great force into her words, "get out of my way!" They exchanged looks and cleared the way, allow the woman to pass.

"You see all the blood on her and that sword," one of them said behind her. "I don't want to fight her, boss."

Once away, she nearly tripped down the ramp leading to the entrance of Lothering, a sudden weight dragging down her left arm. Exhaustion took over, and her legs wobbling beneath her with every step.

"Just a bit more," she murmured to herself. "I'll find a bed, or at least some place to rest for an hour before I continue." Nal passed through the wooden gates only to pause as a Templar walked up to her, her vision blurred creating another, and then a third, to join the first.

"Hello there traveler," the Templar spoke, his voice wavering to Nal's ears. "I'm afraid if you're looking for shelter…" his words grew faint, turning into a distant buzz. The world suddenly spun and Nal felt the ground rush up to meet her. A loud sound echoed in her ears as the world faded to black.


	3. The Old Towers

Hrm... I don't have much to say. I'm not sure how well the chapter came out in comparison with my first two. And I actually felt like changing part of what and who my character is, but sadly it's a little too late fore that since I have put up the first chapter. So don't judge too much :X. But maybe it's fine though, I'm not sure.

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Ta.

Screw you Fanfiction Document Manager! I'm going to apologize now, so the DM is messing around with me, so there may be funny things at the beginning, middle, of end of the chapter. I hope I got them all. Thanks.

* * *

Invictus

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds and shall find me unafraid._

-William Ernest Henley

Eerie green light shifted around her like a fog, passing between the rocks that surrounded her. Nal looked around and had a sudden feeling of being encased, she was underground, Nal _hated_ being underground.

Then she spotted it, in the distance a black writhing mass on a bridge of stone. It shifted, disturbed, before the mass lifted part of itself up. The head turned to look directly at her, glittering golden eyes burrowing into her soul. Goosebumps traveled up and down Nal's skin as chills passed over her. Then she felt it, The Calling, the urge to just walk over there was almost overwhelming.

"No!" Nal shouted, starting awake. Confused, and with pain lancing through her back, Nal looked around, attempting to sit up. She was in a bed, shelves filled with books all around her, and in the distance, chanting.

"You're awake," a woman's voice said, coming from the door. Entering was a woman, brown hair pulled back, and dressed in a chantry robe.

"Where…?" voice rough and gritty, she trailed off.

"Here," The chantry woman came forward and helped Nal sit up more, before placing a water skin to her lips, letting her drink. "You're in the Chantry," the priestess explained, taking away the water. "Ser Greyend brought you in. He said you collapsed on the road right in front of him."

"I remember that," Nal whispered, "just barely."

"We were worried you were seriously injured when he brought you in," the woman continued, "but Ser Greyend insisted that none of the blood was yours and that you weren't seriously hurt beyond your hand, that you only had a few small cuts, scrapes, and bruises."

"My hand," Nal asked, but even as she spoke she felt an ache creep into her right hand, punctuated with a steady pulsation of sharp pain. The image of punching a darkspawn flashed through her head.

"Your hand is broken, but we wrapped it in bandages soaked in healing poultices." Nal looked down to her hand, sure enough it was wrapped heavily in moist bandages. "It's still injured, but better."

"How long have I been asleep?" Nal rubbed at her neck, a stitch forming.

"Only half a day," she answered. "The sun has just begun to rise."

"I see," Nal forced herself out of the bed, a good deal of her body screaming in pain. She went to rub her side to ease the pain and found she still wore her leather armor.

"I'm sorry you had to sleep in your armor," the woman looked abashed, "but I'm only a priestess, I wasn't sure how you get it off. We did try to clean it a bit when we wiped the blood from you."

"It's fine, thanks," Nal looked around, trying to find her equipment.

"Here," the chantry sister said, "we set your weapons and boots over here." Nal was led to a corner where her pack and other items had been placed out of the way. She blinked when she spotted Cailan's great-sword, the golden inlay in the hilt sparkling. However, it had been placed in some old, shoddy sheath that clashed with its ornate appearance. She almost laughed, vaguely remembering when she had grabbed something gold on the battlefield. What a time for her insatiable desire for things that glittered.

Nal strapped on her boots and buckled her belt, daggers, and pack onto her hip. Her glaive went onto her back, followed soon by Cailan's sword, it was awkward and heavy wearing the two weapons, but Nal mustered her strength, and got ready for a long journey north.

"Are you sure you want to go?" the priestess asked. "You can stay a bit longer, it's all right."

"Thank you, but no," Nal faced the woman. "I appreciate your aid, but I must continue." The sister only nodded and watched as Nal left the room and entered the main part of the Chantry. She passed priests, Templars, and refugees – most of which were asleep – on her way out of the two large doors and the Chantry gates. Sure enough, the sister that had helped her had been right; the sun was just beginning to rise.

"If you're looking for Loghain's army they passed through here a day before you," Nal turned to discover a Templar, helmet off, behind her.

"Ser Greyend, I take it," Nal stated more than asked. The Templar nodded his conformation.

"They'll have gained more distance on you," Greyend continued, "but you're only one, perhaps you can catch up."

"Perhaps," Nal agreed, not bothering to correct that she _wasn't_ looking for Loghain's troops. "I should get going."

"Hey, wait," Greyend removed his gloves, tucking them under his arm and pulling a water pouch from his belt as he made his way to a trough filled with water for the refugees. He dunked in the skin filling it up, before he turned and handed it to her. "You'll need it more than I."

Nal bowed her head. "Thank you, Ser," she said as she tied the skin to her belt. With a final nod, she turned and started to make her way to the other end of Lothering.

"Be careful out there," Greyend called after her. "We've been having trouble with wolves and bandits!" Nal glanced over her shoulder at the man, and waved one hand to signal that she had heard his warning. However, despite his claim, the woman did not encounter either.

Nal walked down the road only until she was out of immediate sight of the village, before she veered off the road and into the woods, aiming due northeast. It would take less time passing through the woods to get to her 'home,' situated on the peninsula between Denerim and Amaranthine.

Nearly a week later, she had paced herself respectively, it came into sight. The burnt out ruin of an old watch tower set atop a large hill. It had been meant to keep sight for invading armies from the sea. When in working order, Denerim, just across the bay could be alerted and warned quickly of danger. However, its glory days had not lasted – turns out it was a bit _too_ far from Denerim – and the tower soon fell into disrepair.

As Nal approached she could see the obviously lose rocks on the almost shear sides of the hill, along with a number of wooden spikes. These were all meant to lead anyone planning an attempted entrance to be forced to take the _only_ entrance. A cave opening at the base of the hill, a dark tunnel filled with danger. However if you were Nal, it was much safer. Inside were the _less_ obvious traps, set with hair-triggers, pressure plates, and all sort of other nasty tricks.

Though, perhaps the tally meant to track those slain on the sign that said, "Beware of Dragon," topped by a skull, kept people away. Personally Nal didn't care, but she thought it was a nice touch and would add scores every now and then.

Nal made her way through the dark tunnel, long ago had she memorized the 'safe' path. She could probably navigate between traps in her sleep, so it only took a couple of minutes to reach the actual tower and make her way up to the crumbled and roofless top floor of the tower.

Emerging from a hallway, she entered the main room and set her glaive aside, leaning it against the wall, Cailan's sword joined her weapon. Nal continued in, letting out a deep sigh as she moved around scattered objects, before collapsing into a shadowed corner.

Nal looked up, staring at the stars littered across the sky. "Now what Duncan?" she spoke. "I got away, but what am I supposed to do now?"

* * *

"Hello? Dragon, are you in here?" The sound woke Nal from her sleep a couple of nights later. She blinked her vision clear.

"What the…?" Nal pushed herself off her stomach and sat up on her knees.

"Ooow," a whine echoed up through the tower. "Leliana, don't pull on that, it hurts."

"I am merely trying to remove the needles," the voice was heavily accented, very, _very _Orlesian.

"There is another stairway here," a deep voice rumbled. "Perhaps this leads to the _atashi_."

"Oh, joy more climbing into death filled traps," the whining voice came again. "My day is almost complete. Leliana, why can't you disarm them?" A dog barked loudly.

The Orlesian huffed. "I can't disarm what I can't _see_, Alistair. These are very well disguised and hidden."

"Alistair…" Nal muttered. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"What dragon traps their lair?" It was Alistair's voice, louder as the group came closer. "You'd think they could, oh, I don't know, _burn_ _things_!"

"Perhaps he is merely lazy," a woman's voice sneered. "Not unlike you, Alistair."

"Hey," Alistair's voice whined, drawing out the word.

"Or it's _really_ smart," this was the first voice again, the one that woke her. It also sounded familiar; Ostagar came to mind immediately, then quickly associated the voice to Grey Wardens.

Nal pulled a dagger free from its sheath as she stood, leaving her belt and second blade on the ground. They were very close now, best to be prepared.

"Maker," the first voice breathed out. They had just crossed into her room and were obviously surprised to see the large pile of different glittering items, ranging from gems of different sizes and colors to silver chalices, weapons with gold inlay to silver bracelets reflecting the moonlight.

"It seems those that hired us were not lying," it was the sneering woman's voice.

"Mat," Alistair's voice was soft, calling his fellow warden over.

"_Mat, Mat, Mat…Mattan?_" Nal recalled. Mattan was the Warden recruit. Surely they couldn't be _here_ of all places. Guess that meant she should go greet them.

"Doesn't that look like Cailan's sword?" Apparently Alistair had turned around and spotted where Nal had hung her friend's weapon, which would lead to the next conclusion. "And that one looks like that woman's, Nali?"

"You're right," Mat agreed. "But that leaves one more question. Where's the dragon?"

"Here," Nal spoke, stabbing her dagger into the pile of treasure as she moved around it and out of the shadows. She was met with a metal ringing as swords were drawn. However, once Mattan saw her he lowered his weapon.

"Nal?" he gasped. "_You're _the dragon?"

"Amazing how well lying can get you through life," was Nal's sarcastic reply. In seconds, Nal had been converged upon, the two Wardens the closest while everyone maintained more of a distance. There was a huffing sound at Nal's leg; she looked down to discover a Mabari sniffing at her feet. She pushed it away, but it only returned sniffing more furiously.

"Maker, you're alive, we thought everyone had been killed," Mat said.

"How'd you survive?" Alistair added.

"Duncan told me to leave," Nal delivered a harder shove to the dog with her leg only to have the Mabari shove its head into her leg in return. "Soon after the tower was lit, we noticed there were no reinforcements coming; Cailan was killed shortly after by an Ogre and Duncan got to me and ordered me to leave. So I did."

"And you just _left_ him?" Alistair challenged.

"He told me to leave," Nal glared. "If Duncan had told me to take his life, I would hesitate, but do so nonetheless."

"How could you–" Mattan placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder, stopping his words.

"It's good that you're alive." The junior Warden began, he opened his mouth to say more, but a small bell rang somewhere a few times above them. "What is that?"

Nal moved quickly to what was once a window, but now more of a large section of missing wall. She looked down, but spotted nothing.

"Someone triggered the alarm," Nal said, moving away from the 'window,' and turned towards the others. "They must already be in the tunnel. Did you bring others with you?"

"No, just us," Mattan said.

"It would seem that our employers aren't as trustworthy as we thought," it was the snide-sounding woman she had heard in the tower. She wore little, exposing the pale skin that went so well with her dark hair. The staff on her back marked her as a mage, apostate obviously if the way she dressed meant anything. Nal moved past her, grabbing up her glaive from where it rested.

"You were hired?"

"Yes." Mattan started, "they told us of a well-founded rumor of a drag–" Nal cut him off.

"Yes, I know the rumors. I started them." Nal explained, taking one more glance out of her tower. "The imaginations of humans seem to have gone rampant and many believe the dragon to have vast hordes of gold." Everyone's eyes looked at the mound of gold and silver piled in the middle of the room.

"You _do_ have vast amounts of gold!" Alistair shouted.

"Yes well, things tend to accumulate over the years." Nal shrugged, before removing the cloth over her blade.

"You really think we need to fight?" Mattan said, watching Nal move to the center of the room.

"Better safe than sorry," she drew in a breath held, and then released. Suddenly all her movements took on a relaxed, paced nature, no longer did her words seem rushed.

"My traps usually take care of intruders, but judging from the state of your friend," Nal looked at Alistair, taking in the few burns, needles dotting the right side of his body, and the red welts of spider bites (they were meant to hurt more than harm), almost made Nal roll her eyes. "It would seem _all_ of them were triggered." Alistair injected a 'hey.' "They're getting a free walk up to the top."

Taking a readied stance, Nal closed her eyes and listened. She could hear the shifting of the others in the room with her, but what she focused on would come above.

A second bell jingled to her left. They were on the floor below. A third bell, they were now climbing the stairs. Nal heard their footsteps before they actually entered the room.

"Hey, glad to see you guys are still alive," Nal opened her eyes and looked at the ten men entering the room, by their appearance, nothing more than common thugs and bandits. A few of them looked scuffed and even had blood on their armor. It would seem that a few traps _hadn't_ been triggered after all, perhaps even killed a few, Nal would have to check later.

The lead guy looked around. "So where's the dragon? Figured it'd leave a big corpse." Mattan and his group shifted a bit, there were a few glances towards Nal. The man took notice. "Wait, wait, there isn't one up here?" The bandit laughed. "Only this girl? Guess we didn't need you after all. At least the treasure part was right; with all this we'll be richer than the Arl of Denerim."

"Hey, Sal, look at this here sword," on of the minions pointed out Cailan's great-sword. The leader let out a whistle.

"You sure got _quite_ the collection girl," Sal, the leader, said moving towards the sword to inspect the weapon. Nal raised her left hand, placing it over her eye patch, hooking her thumb along the edge.

"Stay away from that," she growled. Nal's right hand ached as her fist tightened around the black pole of her glaive.

"Or what," the leader challenged turning to look back at Nal. "What do we have to fear up here?" The man began to turn back to the weapon, reaching up to dismount the sword from its place.

With a quick jerk, Nal whipped her patch off and shot forward. No one in the room had time to react as the glaive tore easily through the man's leather armor. Nal's cloak flared, separating and opening, turning into two great wings. The blade screeched against the wall, lifting the man up a few feet, leaving a bloody trail.

"You can fear me!" Nal shouted at the gasping man, his punctured lung rapidly filling with blood. Despite his immediate danger, the bandit was unable to take his eyes from her face.

Her left eye, a bright gold, shown with anger and rage was surrounded by a faint imprinting of scales. Below her eye, along the lowest point was a scar, tracing the edge of the scale-looking skin, before it took a sudden turn, trailing off into the hairline by her ear.

Nal growled, and put her body weight behind the weapon, dragging it along the wall a foot to the opening of her window. Then she allowed gravity to aid her. The man made a desperate grab as he slid off the end of the blade. He was gone in seconds, his airless lungs not allowing him to scream as he plummeted. Nal turned around to a room of surprised faces.

"Maker…" someone within whispered. The word seemed to trigger the other bandits and thugs into fully realizing what had happened. They rushed forward, intent on killing the single woman.

The first received the same stab, blade sliding through the leather easily and ripping a hole into his lung before it came back out, dripping red blood. Nal spun her weapon, blade pointing behind and the wooden pole moved to her left catching the second man's attack. When he drew back, Nal slide the pole across her stomach the dragon head swung around, pointing at its newest target. Shooting forwards the blade dung into the bandit's gut, slicing through organs and coming back out with a spray of blood.

As she pulled the blade back out, Nal made a fast attack with the butt of the weapon smashing into the shin of one of the bandits trying to sneak up behind her. The bone broke with a snap. Another hit followed, this time to his chest the leather took the brunt of the impact, but her attack had the desired effect. The bandit stumbled back on his broken leg and hit the edge of the window where he cart-wheeled his arms, attempting to maintain his balance. The third blow to his shoulder came a few seconds later and sent him over the edge. His screams faded as he fell, before cutting off abruptly.

A shout came from on of the thugs in the back, catching Nal's attention briefly. She spotted him just in time to see the thug lifted from the ground by the large man that had accompanied Mattan. With a heave the man went up and over the group, following his companion out the window.

Mattan and his companions had joined the fray forcing a few of the bandits to change their attentions. However, now outnumbered instead of outnumbering, the bandits where rapidly taken down and killed.

Nal stepped over the blood spreading over the stone floor and dropped her glaive on the ground before collapsing onto the mound of treasure. It was uncomfortable, but the woman was past caring about such things. She let out a sigh, shifting her wings enough that they didn't pinch her back so much as they were pinned behind her. Silence reigned for the first few minutes after the battle.

"So," Mat broke the silence, drawing out the word, "can you fly?"

"What?" Nal asked surprised at not only his tone, but his apparent nonchalance about seeing her as she truly was.

"You have wings. So, can you fly?" The Warden asked again.

"No," Nal answered, slightly disdainful. "I can't."

"I've heard about your kind," the witch spoke, moving past Mattan. "But Mother spoke as if you were all dead."

Nal shrugged. "With each Blight those like me grow fewer."

"What exactly _are_ you?" Alistair finally asked the question that should have come first.

"A Dragonspawn," the red witched breathed. "They're a _very_ old race. Long has it been since their kind passed into legend and myth. They were supposed to have died when the Tevinter Imperium fell in the First Blight."

Nal shrugged again. "Most _did_, at least from what I understand."

"So, there are more of you?" Mattan asked.

"Not really. The line has died over the past few thousand years. It's a very rare thing to give birth to one like me. So over time those that looked human were the ones that carried on the line. Now those people no long know they carry the blood. The line is so diluted that it's become even more of rare a thing to give birth to one like me."

"Someone that possesses draconic semblances," the witch stated.

Nal nodded her affirmation. "It's the reason I was left abandoned in the woods to die. I was born with how my eye is now, the wings, useless as they are, came later."

"Yet you were obviously rescued," the red woman said.

"By a wandering group of gypsies, thieves, exiles, outcasts, elves, and other such things. They treated me _wonderfully_. So well in fact I almost didn't want to run away." Nal's words were dripping acid.

"And then Duncan found you?" Asked Mattan.

"After I ran away, yes. I was about nine."

"Yet if your past is so mysterious and dark, why tell us all this?" Alistair said in an accusing tone. "You don't strike me as the type."

"Because Duncan told me not to lie to you, back when he told me to be nice to you. He was my savior, the first to show and give me respect, despite knowing what I was. I'd have done _anything_ he asked of me.

"Now he's gone, along with all the others, and I have nothing to be asked of me anymore," Nal sighed, laying her head back against the gold. "I've lived my whole life by following orders. Now I don't really know what I should do."

Mattan stepped forward, stopping before Nal. "Then come with me," the Warden offered holding out his hand. She looked at the proffered hand, but did not accept. Mat continued speaking. "I shall give you a reason to continue. I shall give you a goal. All _you _need to do is come with me."

Nal looked up at the dark-haired Warden and she remembered a time many years ago when words like that had been spoken to her before. Instead of Mattan before her, there was a younger Duncan, and before him a skinny, dirt-covered girl in tattered clothes. He had come across her face-down in the middle of the road, the left side of her face sporting a poorly healing blood-crusted cut. Half-starved and with tearstained cheeks, no longer possessing the will to get up and move forward.

"_Come with me, child," the man she didn't yet know spoke, extending his hand to the small girl. "I shall give you a reason to continue on your journey. I shall give you a goal to complete. All you need to do is come with me."_

"I can give you your chance for revenge," Mattan finally added when she didn't speak right away.

Closing her eyes, Nal shook her head slightly. "Gods, I can't believe I'm doing this," she reached out and clasped his hand, looking into his eyes as he pulled her up. Nal was slightly surprised that Mattan didn't seem to mind that she wasn't _exactly_ human. Once standing on her own, the two released each other. Nal moved around the Warden to where she had dropped her eye patch, picking it up, Nal replaced it over her eye.

"If you need money," Nal began, "there's some in the desk over there." She pointed to an almost rotted-out, lopsided desk. "There are sovereigns in the top drawer." Mat nodded and moved over to the desk.

Nal moved over to the collection of bodies and sighed. "Now my tower is a mess." She grabbed the closest body by the leather armor it wore and hauled it to the window. With a heave she got it over the short lip and the cadaver was defenestrated out of the tower. Nal turned to grab a second, but stopped short a body tumbled past her out the window. She looked up and saw the Qunari, giving him a nod of thanks, she returned to cleaning up aided by the tall man.

"Oh, how morbid," the Orlesian spoke, Nal paused to look up at the red-headed woman. "Shouldn't you be a little more kind to the departed?"

"They're in_ my _home, which happens to be a _tower_. I'm not hauling them down hundreds of stairs to give them a burial, but by all means feel free to do so yourself." When no answer was forthcoming, Nal heaved her third cadaver out of the tower.

"All right," Mattan said, walking up to the group, a small bag in hand. "Lets go." The Qunari heaved the final body out and then fell into step with the small band of people. Nal gave a final glance at the blood soaking into the stone and sighed.

"_Maybe I can soak it out when I come back," _she thought.


	4. Finding Zevranland

So I remembered now that I probably should have mentioned that my story is an itty bitty bit different in sequence from the game. Nothing major really. You'll see what I mean. I'm not sure how the end of this chapter turned out. I'm not really sure I like it that much, but some things have to happen. I'd also like to thank all the people that Favorited, Reviewed and/or Alerted. You guys know who you are. ^_~ (You're the best! That's who you are!)

So, I'm sure I had something else to say, but I can't think of it anymore. Enjoy!

* * *

Invictus

_It matters not how strait the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll,  
I am the master of my fate:  
I am the captain of my soul._

-William Ernest Henley

They had made camp and Nal had been introduced to all of the Warden's companions. Alistair, she already knew, was _technically_ the senior Warden of the two survivors. Morrigan, the snarky witch with little clothes, was the Warden's rescuers, sort of; it had been their mother that saved them. Leliana, the Orlesian with a Maker complex – Nal was biased against anything involving the 'Maker' – was a bard they had met in an inn while at Lothering. She had helped them chase off some of Loghain's men. Then there was Sten, the quiet Qunari that had aided her with disposing the bodies, they had rescued him from a cage on the outskirts of Lothering – Nal hadn't noticed him so he either hadn't been there at the time or perhaps she left a different way – where he had been left for the darkspawn.

A loud bark echoed across camp. Of course, then there was the dog. His name was Rook – he was in fact named after the chess piece – and belonged to Mattan. Mattan _Cousland_, child of the Teryn of Highever. This was all before his family had been killed and he escaped with Duncan into the night. Nal was surprised at how forthcoming Mat had been with what had happened to him. It was certainly _not_ a daily event to have such a conversation with someone, especially not when she was the recipient.

Nal situated herself near the fire, the heat of the flames producing a relaxing effect that she had always enjoyed. She found it almost difficult to believe she was here, here being at camp with people planning on stopping the blight. While high on the list, the idea of butchering Loghain like a pig had been steadily rising since she had woken up in Lothering. The offer of revenge had only fueled the fire; Nal _would_ kill Loghain before seeing to the end of the blight.

Rook interrupted her burning thoughts with a bark before collapsing onto her lap, causing Nal to grunt at the sudden weight. The dog stared up at her, tongue rolling out of his mouth.

"Hey," Mat said settling himself down nearby. Alistair was with him, but he stood short distance away from her. "I was just wondering if you could tell me more about these' Dragonspawn.'"

"There isn't much I can tell you. It's mostly speculation from the few facts there are," Nal explained, giving Rook a few scratches at his insistence.

"We're still interested," Mattan persisted, also confirming that Alistair was skulking about for the same reason.

With a shrug Nal started speaking. "I'll start at the beginning then. Just like your Morrigan friend said, the line first started in the Tevinter Imperium, _thousands_ of years ago. I can only assume that the line began with what you call 'the Old Gods' or now the Archdemons. Before the Great Ones taught the mages magic, before they were imprisoned by your Maker, they created the Dragonspawn.

"Dragonspawn are a race of humanoid appearing dragons, or at least they are now and I use the word 'dragons' loosely. They were started, most likely from some kind of blood ritual. The Imperium worshipped the Old Ones as Gods, so it must have been easy to convince those capable, I say capable not able, of magic to share the blood of the Gods. This sharing was the start, I suppose. Those that had taken on the blood of the Gods would give birth to Dragonspawn. Of course it wasn't every time a Dragonspawn was born, but it must have been common enough to create a sizable population.

"Then the Old Gods were imprisoned, along with the Dragonspawn they created. The race was split into seven, a 'clan' for each Creator. However, the humans with the 'taint,' for lack of a better word, were not imprisoned so the race continued on. Then came the teaching of magic and the usurping of 'heaven.' Followed by the creation of darkspawn, the rise of the Archdemon Dumat, and the fall of the Tevinter Imperium.

"After that I can only assume that any Dragonspawn born was then killed, perhaps even the entire family. It was all in an attempt to erase the species, yet a few of the ones that looked human still managed to slip through the cracks, they may have even escaped the Imperium and moved to Ferelden or Antiva, or any number of countries in Tedas.

"The ones that looked human survived, while those that looked different were killed, eventually the blood became so diluted, mixing with humans, that almost everyone born looked human, they carried only the faintest traces of the blood. And things came to how they are today, most are human, they may not even be aware that they carry the traces of Old Blood, but there are still a few like me born. And those like me are left to die. After all, why keep a child that doesn't look completely human." Nal shrugged at the end of her long explanation.

"And your wings came later?" Mattan asked, remembering that she had mentioned that earlier.

"When I was fifteen or so," Nal nodded. "I assume it is some kind of adolescent growing, age thing."

"What makes you say that?" Mat questioned.

Nal gave a shove to Rook to get him off her lap before standing. Once up she opened her right wing, curling it to be more in front of her body. She grabbed onto the furthest ribbing bone of her wing and pulled. The bone bent and kept on bending until it was in a nice U-shape. "My wing bones a flexible, hard to break. It will even bend the other way, though not as much." Nal released the bone and it snapped back into place. With a roll of her shoulder she moved the wing back into place, folding the clawed tip over her shoulder to take of the appearance of a cloak once again.

"There is a surprising amount of sinew and muscle in my wings as well, so I can fold them like this. It's uncomfortable, but I've gotten used to it. We were lucky, Duncan and I, if I couldn't fold my wings like this I'd probably have caused a mob in some city or town by now." Nal sat down again, spreading the ends of her wings so she didn't crush them beneath her. Rook reclaimed his spot on her lap and received more idle scratches.

"They cause more pain than anything else," Nal said. "A dragon has wings on its back, but they're _on top_ of its body, not behind like me. So they get pinched and crushed and I can't sleep on my back. I have nearly chronic back pain and if I was that kind of a person, I could whine about it all day."

"I could cut them off for you," Mattan said with a sly grin.

"Believe you me, I've thought about it. Many times, but the idea of the scars they'd leave wasn't appealing."

"Why would the, um," Alistair floundered, "the Old Gods create a new race?"

Nal shrugged. "To make an army? Produced by mages I would assume they might be capable of magic as well. Perhaps they wanted a great army to take over your heaven. I'm not sure; I have no talent in magic."

"What about that fire dragon you made?"

Nal gave a short, mirthless laugh. "You saw that? It wasn't magic; my glaive is enchanted with flame runes, blessed by Toth, the God of fire. The Wardens of Weisshaupt thought the weapon fitting for me." She gave a wry smile. "I'm not actually descended from Toth though."

"Who are you descended from?" Mattan asked.

"What does it matter?" Nal returned only to receive a shrug from the Warden.

"Just curious," he admitted.

"Maker," Alistair exclaimed and backed up a few steps. "If you're from the Archdemons, that makes you a darkspawn!"

"You could say that," Nal confessed, "at least to a certain extent. I had thought it possible, that perhaps Dragonspawn were the first darkspawn, but I can never be sure, especially now with our blood so thin. I'm far more human than those in the past. I was born with the taint, yes, but it's very faint. Duncan would say I was born more of a Warden than anything else. After all, you don't sense me, do you? You don't feel as if a darkspawn is in front of you now, do you?"

"No," Alistair murmured.

"A Warden in all but name," Mat said, receiving a nod of agreement from Nal.

"I never drank the blood of darkspawn and Archdemon," she stated. "Duncan convinced those in Weisshaupt that doing so may only end my life and that I was too valuable to risk such a thing."

"But what makes you so valuable?" Alistair snapped. "What makes you so important?"

Nal's eyes instantly hardened as she flung up her defense of showing only anger and distain. "That is none of your concern." The words were spoken calmly, but laced with threat. Alistair snorted and stormed away.

"He doesn't really trust you," Mat admitted softly. "I guess it's 'cause you aren't human, or maybe because you didn't save Duncan, I don't know." The Warden gave up with a shrug.

"Doesn't matter, there are very few people that _do_ trust me once they know what I am."

"And you're completely unbothered by that?" Mattan asked.

Nal looked at the dark-haired man directly in the eye. "Yes." The answer was firm and spoken in an irrefutable tone. The two only broke eye contact when it began to rain, a steady stream of icy cold water dripping from the sky. Mat gave a short nod, got up and retreated to his tent before he got soaked, Rook followed shortly.

Nal remained in place, the rain slicking her hair down and creating a thin, wispy streak of smoke from the fire. She watched it slowly moving back and forth unaware that the others had also retreated to their tents.

"Do you intend to become soaking wet?" A woman's voice spoke behind her. Nal rolled her head back, viewing Morrigan upside-down.

"Perhaps, it's not like I have a tent," Nal replied.

"Of that I am aware," the witch said back. "Come along then, you can share with me until you acquire your own." Without a second glance Morrigan turned and walked away. With slow, relaxed movements that belied her abilities, Nal rose, gathered her items, and followed the red woman to her more-of-a-lean-to tent. Following a pointed finger Nal took up residence in the smaller section beside the main part of Morrigan's tent. Nal found she did not sleep well.

* * *

"So where do you intend to lead us?" Morrigan asked Mat the next morning. The group had been woken by Sten, who had taken last watch, a little after dawn. Nal however had been up before the sun had risen and in that twilight she had gotten the breakfast caught, skinned, and cooked. It wasn't much, but it had fed the group before they had packed and continued west.

"Hopefully to the Mage's Tower," the Warden answered. They had travelled for a number of hours already. "If we're lucky it'll only take a couple of days. Bodahn said he'd catch up with us once he got his wagon out of the mud."

"I do hope he'll be all right," Leliana worried.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. I doubt he's been able to survive this long without some kind of contingency plan," Mattan reassured the Orlesian bard.

"Oh, thank the Maker!" A woman came rushing towards the small band. Nal shifted uncomfortable, this woman caused Nal's skin to itch. "We need help! They attacked the wagon, please help us!" She barely stopped in front of them before rushing back the way she came. "Follow me! I'll take you to them!"

Trailing the woman, who was surprisingly fast, they came to a wider section of the road tall rock on either side. Wagons and dead oxen were littered about creating obstacles. The woman slowed coming to a halt before a blond man. By his height – shorter than the average human – Nal sorted him under elf.

Nal wasn't sure if they exchanged words or not, she probably wouldn't have heard them anyway, but the woman turned to the side, allowing the armed man to step past her. The elf waved his hand in a signal. From behind the wagons and the rocks emerged more fighters and archers. The latter positioned on the ledges of rocks above the Wardens and their companions. They were nearly outnumbered two to one.

There was a cracking above them as a dead tree was shoved. It fell forcing the group to dodge, half moving forward and the other back, separating the small group and blocking the exit for those in front. Nal, one of the ones that had moved forward to avoid the tree, looked back to the ambushers. At this distance she couldn't see the smile splayed across the attacker's faces, but she certainly heard the leader call out his order.

"The Grey Warden dies here!" The warriors before them rushed forward and the woman revealed herself as a mage, lightening crackling between her fingers as she cast.

Nal reacted the best way she knew, in a showy display. The glaive flew up, passing between the leather of her wings and the leather of her armor. She caught the tassel on a hook attached to the back of her armor and pulled the weapon out of its black cloth. Once the blade cleared her back, Nal rolled it forward and shifted her grip to be underhanded, holding the weapon like a javelin. Nal looked straight at the duel-wielding man who had noticed her display and her look and was waiting patiently for her to make the throw of her weapon.

Two steps back and three steps forward preceded the throw. The glaive arched upward the golden dragon sparkling in the sun. Being the target, the elf watched the entire thing. At the weapon's pinnacle just as it aimed downward the elf moved to the side. As he stepped over he seemed to realize something, his eyes growing wide. He had _not_ been the true target and he looked back just in time to see the weapon sink into his mage's chest. The blade easily ripped through the cloth she wore and emerged from the other side. The weight of the weapon sent the blood-gurgling mage to the ground. Red liquid pooled around her body rapidly. By the time the assassin looked back at the woman in slight shock, Nal had already pulled out her twin daggers and was charging forward towards him.

"Kill the girl!" He shouted to the archers realizing she was quiet possibly the most dangerous of the group for she wove between his warriors without hitch while the other members of the party fought them.

Hearing his call, Nal prepared herself, but kept moving forward her visible eye on the elf the entire time. Nal sped up just before the archers released. Three of the arrows thudded into the ground behind her, while the final two clanged off her raised daggers, sending reverberations down her arms.

The elf held his ground and brought his weapons into a defensive position, ready to block Nal's first attack. He was so prepared to receive the blow that he was once again stunned by her action. Just feet from him Nal veered to the side taking five long steps up the wagon the elf stood beside. She jumped to the rock at the end of the wagon and with a sharp turning push, Nal was in the air. Her two blades sank into the first archer as she came down blood spurting from his mortal wounds.

The left blade, which was the looser of the two, slid back out and was sent sailing towards the second archer further down the rock ledge. The blade bit deeply into his leg and the man let out a howl of pain, nearly dropping his bow. With a jerk Nal ripped the blade she held free and rushed the injured man. Grabbing his leathers, and because of his injured leg she easily jerked the man to the side. He stumbled over, only held up by Nal's grip, and took the third archer's arrow to the back.

Dropping the soon-to-be dead man to the ground Nal rushed forward to the third and final archer on her side of the battlefield. The woman dropped her bow and pulled her single sword free. The archer, not specifically trained to fight in melee, managed to block the first two blows but took the third swing across the stomach, splattering blood across the rock wall beside her. Nal made the final blow quick and went for the heart. The metal of her dagger sheared through the archer's leather and tore greedily into Nal's opponent's vital organ. The woman was dead before the dagger was removed.

Turning around Nal noticed the rest of the party had gotten past the tree and the battle was almost over, Morrigan taking down the final archer with a lightening spell. Without a glance to the dying man she had injured, she pulled her dagger from his leg and left, his slowly weakening cries bounced off deaf ears. Nal came to the lower edge of the cliff where she stopped, listening and watching as Mat talked to the would-be assassin, who was lying on the ground holding onto his side.

"Ah, so I am to be interrogated," the elf's words was heavily accented with Antivan speech. "Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens," Zevran gave short chuckle, "which I have failed at, sadly."

"I'm rather happy you failed," Mat ground out.

"So would I be, in your shoes," Zevran admitted. "For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to ones budding assassin career."

"What are the Antivan Crows?" Mat asked.

"I can tell you that," Leliana spoke up before Zevran could. "They are an order of assassins out of Antiva, very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done, so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man."

"Quite right," the elf agreed. "I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here, but where I come from we're rather infamous."

"Not for being good assassins, I see," Nal spat out. The elf looked at her.

"Oh, fine. Is that what you Fereldens do?" Zevran said, smile in his voice. "Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty." The assassin received no biting return, which was somewhat of a disappointment. He had figured she, the quick killer, to be of quick temperament as well.

"Who hired you to kill us?" Mattan crossed his arms.

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital," the elf gave up willingly. "Loghain, I think his name was. Yes, that's it." Everyone turned to look as Nal dropped from the ledge, scowl evident on her face. She stalked behind the elf and to the dead mage where her glaive was planted, however she didn't yet pull it out.

"When were you to see him again?" Mat spoke, drawing the assassin's attention from Nal.

"I wasn't. If I had succeeded I would've returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain about the results, if he didn't already know." The Crow went on to explain. "If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."

"If you had failed?" Mattan raised a brow at that.

"What can I say, eh," the assassin chuckled slightly. "I'm an eternal optimist." Nal snorted at that and received brief glances from the two men. "Although the chances at succeeded at this point seem a bit slim don't they?" He laughed. "No I don't suppose you'd find that funny would you."

"_I_ suppose we're done here," Mat stated.

"Then unless you're quite stuck on cutting my throat or something equally gruesome, perhaps you'd care to hear a proposal," the elf offered.

"I'm listening," Mat drew the word out, showing his impatience.

"Well, here's the thing," he started, "I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So, let me serve you, instead."

"And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?" Mat asked, his question completely justified by what had gone on earlier.

"To be completely honest I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I paid my worth back to them plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

"Why would we want _your _service?" Nal growled out.

Zevran shot her a sly smile. "Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting, to stealth, and picking locks."

"That's what _she's_ here for," Nal interrupted, jerking her head towards Leliana.

Zevran turned to the Warden, ignoring Nal's comment. "I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more sophisticated, now that my attempts have failed. I could also stand around and look pretty if you prefer. Warm your bed," that was said with a pointed look to the dark-haired woman behind him. "Fend off unwanted suitors, no?"

Nal made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "You must think I'm royally stupid."

"I think _you're_ royally tough to kill." Zevran shook his head before sending another smile Nal's way. "And utterly gorgeous. A deadly sex goddess. Quite the mix, don't you think?"

Nal's visage grew icier at every word out of the elf's mouth. Her hand snapped out latching onto the shaft of her weapon. She planted her foot onto the dead mage's chest just below the blade of her glaive and with a strong pull Nal ripped the weapon from the dead woman's body. Ribs cracked under the pressure of her foot. Nal swung the weapon up, resting the dark pole on her shoulder.

"Kill him," the fighter growled. "That's my vote." Nal stalked off further down the road.

"Nice woman you've got there," Zevran said to the Warden.

"Wait 'til you get to know her," Mat chuckled. "She's the bright jewel of our group."

"Ah, then…?" the elf trailed off.

"Welcome aboard Zevran," Mat smiled.

"Wait, what?" Alistair protested. "You're taking the assassin with us now? I'm going to have to actually side with Naliana on this one. Does that really seem like a good idea?"

"Don't worry about it," Mat waved off his fellow Warden. "We could use him."

"All right, all right, I see your point" the man acquiesced. "But still, if there was a sign that we were desperate I think it just knocked on the door and said 'hello.'"

"Welcome Zevran," Leliana greeted. "Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan."

"Oh?" Zevran raised a brow. "You are another companion-to-be then? I wasn't aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers surely."

"Or maybe not," Leliana walked off, joining up with Nal further down the road. "Pig," she grumbled where only her fellow woman could hear.

Nal snorted. "Tell me about it." As she spoke those words, Nal suddenly felt that she had more of a kinship with Leliana that she would actually ever admit. Perhaps if Nal just ignored the bard's prayers to the Maker, maybe then the Orlesian wouldn't be so bad.

"I hear by pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such a time as you chose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."

"Let's head out then," Mat said and moved forward, the group easily catching up with the two women further ahead. Leliana and Nal maintained their pace walking side-by-side, but allowed the two Wardens to pass and take the lead. It was at that point when Zevran fell into step beside Nal. He gave them both a smile and received a scowl in return from the bard, but was unacknowledged by the dark-haired woman.

"You're quite the talented woman, no?" The elf said to Nal, trying to garner her attention. He succeeded only to the point that she turned her eye to look at him. So he continued. "It will be an honor working with someone like you. Perhaps when we make camp tonight you can show me the _full extent_ of your prowess."

Nal's sapphire eye narrowed. "No."

"Come, my dear," Zevran continued undeterred. "It will be an adventure of a life–" Nal cut him off with a sharp deliverance of her elbow to his side. The elf's breath escaped in a rush and he crouched over the wound he had received earlier, stopping dead in the road. The bard and the warrior kept walking as if nothing had happened. In fact they had even started their own conversation. Morrigan walked past the injured elf chuckling.

It was only when the now larger band had stopped for the night and set up camp that Zevran approached Nal once again.

"Go on Nal!" Mat called across camp. "It's as important for him to know the truth as it was for the rest of us!"

"Very well," Nal sighed out, standing from her spot by the fire. She followed the elf over to a clear section of camp. Zevran pulled out his two daggers, giving them a flourish. Nal, however, refrained from such a display and simply unhooked her glaive from her back and discarded its covering on the dirt ground. "Knife ears first."

"Nal!" Mat admonished her use of the racial slur.

Zevran seemed completely unaffected by the term and darted forward towards her, but dodged back when her glaive shot forward. The spar rapidly turned into a game of back and forth. The elf, unable to get too close, had to constantly move back out of the long reach of Nal's glaive. So, Zevran made and attempt to get around Nal and attack from her back. Nal hardly moved from her spot to follow the elf's progression. The next time the assassin came forward for an attack he was met with the butt of the wood pole. The bone crushing speed had Zevran dodging backwards again; watching as the wood sank into the soil before coming back out with a spray of dirt.

At this point Zevran realized she wasn't _trying_ to actually hit him and was only keeping him at a distance. That's what her weapon was for, all six of its feet and the only way to get to her was to get past the dangerous slicing and crushing ends. Which meant Zevran would have to pick up the pace to get past her guard.

The assassin shot forward again and the battle quickly turned ugly. Realizing what was happening Nal flung the butt of her glaive out, nearly crushing Zevran's foot. When he came back forward he almost lost his head as she turned and swung the bladed end of her weapon at him. Zevran dropped to the ground to dodge and quickly had to roll to the side as the butt came back in for an attack. He got back to his feet and came forward again. This time the Nal sent the side of the pole swinging at him as if it was the bladed end. Sacrificing one dagger and the feeling in his left arm, Zevran blocked the attack, swinging his blade across his body. He then rolled himself out; using the feet he'd gain in the maneuver to approach Nal. He was past her defenses and his last dagger came out, intending to rest against the side of her throat.

"I'm afraid, my dear, you have failed." Just as he was bringing his dagger to a halt, Zevran was struck by something heavy and _hard._ The elf was sent tumbling to land on his back, feeling as if his ribs had just been broken in the process. As he pushed himself back up he felt a boot land on his shoulder and roughly push him back down followed by the glaive point resting lightly on his throat. Above him stood Nal, her face hard and her two golden-brown wings spread slightly from their attack.

"Next time you challenge me elf," she growled, "I'll kill you." Nal put pressure on his shoulder for emphasis before removing both her foot and the glaive and walking away, recovering the blade as she went. Then Zevran noticed the laughing, as he pushed himself up he looked at Warden Mattan, howling with laughter.

"Yes, yes, quite the funny joke," Zevran grumbled as he got to his feet. "What is she?"

"Our resident Dragonspawn," Mat answered, still shaking with laughter. He moved forward and threw his arm around the elf's shoulder. "Quite the girl isn't she?"

Zevran looked over to where Nal had gone off to. She had stopped, or been stopped, by Leliana, who was speaking to her and inspecting one of Nal's wings, most likely the one she had hit the assassin with.

"Quite…" Zevran agreed.


	5. Fawlty Magi Towers

I know, I'm so sorry, it has been such a long time. Sorry! I hope this makes up for it, its not that exciting, I'm actually looking more forward to the next one :D. I actually started working on the next chapter when I was having word block (not a writer's block I knew what I wanted to happen I just couln't word it right). It also seems that my breaks have been removed, so I'm sorry if scene changes may be slightly confusing.

Enjoy the chapter!

Edit 5/22 - I have fixed all breaks in all chapters!

* * *

Invictus

_Now the dark begins to rise  
Save your breath it's far from over  
Leave the lost and dead behind_

_-_Breaking Benjamin

_I will not Bow_

The entrance hall of the tower had been converted into an infirmary, barracks, armory, and headquarter. There was only a little more than half a dozen Templars inside the entrance way. Most of them were leaning against walls or tucked into corners to keep upright, while at least half were actually crouched on the floor in exhaustion.

"The doors will not open without my express consent. Is that clear?" The order echoed around the open room drawing everyone's attention to two Templars. One helmeted while the other Nal recognized as Greagoir, the Knight-Commander of the Circle Tower.

"Yes, ser," the helmed Templar saluted before walking away.

"The doors are barred?" Alistair wondered out loud. "For what? Keeping people out, or in?"

"What's going on here?" Mat question as he approached the Knight-Commander.

"Naliana?" A soft call came from the left, catching said person's attention. Nal looked over and spotted a dark-haired Templar shifting on the ground as he attempted to stand. Glancing back to the Mat, she saw the Warden was deeply engaged in conversation with the Knight-Commander. Deciding she wouldn't be readily missed, Nal moved over to the Templar placing a hand on his armored shoulder to keep him from getting up.

"Shain?" Nal asked as she squatted down beside the man. He _felt_ the same to her, but he _looked_ older. His black hair winged with a touch of grey and lines etched in his skin at the corner of his eyes. He looked extremely tired and Nal could tell his leg had been injured and wasn't doing very well.

"I can't believe you're here," Shain murmured, laying back down on his make-shift bed. "I guess it means the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" Nal questioned moving down his body to sit by his leg.

"That the darkspawn won Ostagar and King Cailan is dead," the Templar explained as Nal removed his greave to inspect the injury. "You wouldn't leave the king's side if he were still alive."

The wound was red, swollen, and leaking puss. Nal was surprised the man could still put a coherent sentence together. "Not all of the rumors are true," Nal added, pulling out some poultices from her bag.

"No, I suppose not. Uldred said the Grey Wardens betrayed the king, let him die. I didn't believe it, I couldn't." Nal nodded to herself, the fever finally showing itself in his rambling. "I saw how you and the king were when you two came to the tower." Nal froze in her ministrations. "You were nigh inseparable. You may not have been part of the Wardens, but you would never betray the king, even if you were promised the world."

Nal gently poured the healing poultice into the wound on Shain's leg. The cooling sensation caused the Templar to let out a sigh. "I suppose that's true," she acquiesced, wrapping his injury up in bandages and stuffing a discarded blanket under his leg for elevation. "Stay off your leg for a day or two. I used a potent solution on your leg; it should heal and destroy the infection."

"You'll make some man happy one day," Shain murmured as his exhaustion caught up to him.

"I doubt that," Nal returned. She looked over her shoulder checking if Mat and the others were still talking with the Knight-Commander, they were, however, Zevran was looking at her with a raised brow. He had apparently been watching the exchange. With narrowed eyes for the assassin, Nal turned back to the injured Templar. "Did any of the mages make it out?"

Shain shrugged his head further to his left and Nal followed his directions. She could make out a lump covered in blankets in the far corner and a wad of black hair from one end. "Surana helped a couple of us fight our way out, but she's been out since. Mana exhaustion," the words were quiet and slurred in a few places as Shain began to drift in and out of consciousness.

"Nal," Mattan called, she looked back to him and received a beckoning gesture. "We're going in and since you drew a straw to take the boat ride over with us, you're coming too."

Nal nodded and stood. "Stay off that leg," she reiterated to the man at her feet and received a groan in reply. Nal made her way to the group, passing Zevran. "What!" She snapped at the elf in passing. He only shrugged and turned to follow. The door was pulled open by the two Templars on either side; the hallway on the other side was littered with blood and bodies. However, despite the mess, it felt eerily silent.

"Naliana," Greagoir said stopping the girl as she moved past him to join Mat and Alistair in the doorway. "Take care of yourself in there."

"I always do Knight-Commander," she responded, giving the man a nod and moving away, Zevran on her heels. The doors slammed shut with an ominous bang once the small group was inside.

"So," Zevran said in that drawing accent that meant he was about to say something Nal wasn't going to like. "Just how _well _do you know those Templars?" Nal moved rapidly and with a hard shove the elf was pushed back into metal door behind him. The doors shook and the sound of impact echoed down the hallway.

"What's wrong with you?" Nal growled.

"I'm just asking," he said with a shrug, unconcerned with her violent reaction. "It just seemed to me that you knew them. Rather well in fact, no?" Nal sighed, turning away and following Mat and Alistair further down the hallway, peeking into rooms as they went.

"Fair question if you ask me," Mat said as he reemerged from the dormitory.

With an annoyed sound Nal explained in the least amount of words she could manage. "I spent a couple of months in the Tower a few years ago."

"And that's it?" Alistair questioned, slight disbelief in his tone.

"Why would I lie?" Nal replied.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're –" Alistair cut off as the air filled with distant magic, a soft tickling sensation skittering across her skin despite the armor she wore.

The group rushed forward entering a large room, one end held a small number of mages and a few small children. The air grew colder as they drew closer to the caster, an older woman, Nal noted, with her white hair pulled back. Before the elder mage a demon of fire and lava slowly inched its way forward, pulling itself through the barrier erected in the doorway. The woman thrust her staff at the rage demon, ice and snow blasting off the tip, swirling around the demon. Its lava skin crystallized and froze to become pristine ice, before it tilted to one side, falling to the ground shattering, sending skittering sparks across the floor. The mage, dusting off her robes, turned to check on the others behind her and paused as her eyes spotted the additions to the group.

"You," she said surprised, eyes fixating on Mat. "Come no further, Grey Warden or not, I will strike you down."

Mat raised his hands, spreading them to placate the angry mage. "I'm not here to fight."

"Then what are you here for?" The woman asked, replacing the staff on her back. As she spoke the words sent a nagging thought through Nal's head. The mage seemed oddly familiar, but the name was escaping Nal at the moment. "The Templars would not let just anyone in. Do they plan to attack the tower now?"

"No," Mat said evenly, crossing his arms as the danger had passed. "They're waiting for reinforcements." The mage seemed to relax slightly as these words. "I came to do something in the meantime. Though the Knight-Commander said we wouldn't be getting out without the First Enchanter himself."

"Irving? He should hopefully be on the upper levels of the tower. I doubt Uldred would have him killed, at least not immediately. Still, time must not be wasted. I'll lower the barrier for you, but I insist on coming along." The mage looked over the other. "It is good to see others survived the battle. Naliana and Alistair, right?" The two nodded. "You're looking well Nali."

"As well as can be, considering the circumstances," Nal replied, the mage's face took on a look of understanding and compassion. "You'll have to forgive me, it is… Wynne? Correct?"

"Yes, I'm surprised you remembered. I wouldn't have expected you to recall a name of someone you met in passing, especially in a tower full of mages."

"Unfortunately, I recall many names of those I have met." Wynne's face grew sad once more.

"Well," Mat injected into the silence, "now that introductions are out of the way. Perhaps we should continue forward?"

"What no room for me?" Zevran said, his voice holding mock hurt, before he turned to the mage with a smile and a bow. "I am Zevran my dear lady." The assassin extended his hand to capture Wynne's, but she expertly evaded.

"Of course you are," Wynne turned to the open archway, raising her hand to the shimmering blue shield. The blue field flickered a few times before dying and fading out of existence. "Let us go."

The group moved forward and as Nal passed by the assassin, she couldn't help but rib him. "Denied," she whispered quietly for only his ears and left with a chuckle, removing her glaive from her back.

The magic shield was indeed the only reason the tower was not _fully_ overrun. Once beyond abominations seemed to be in every area they passed through and flooded the hallway from the side rooms. Nal's weapon spun above her before she brought it down across on of the abomination's chest. Splitting it open, allowing it to spill blood down its front. With a quick withdrawal, Nal thrust the glaive forward, ending the demon's misery, with a blade punched through its head. She retreated quickly from the falling form for as soon as it hit the ground it exploded with a wave of heat and pieces of flesh that scattered around, landing on the walls, the floor, and people as well.

"Nal," Mat growled, "I swear. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Stop swinging that _thing_ around. If I have to duck it one more time you'll be looking for it on the bottom of the lake."

"How do you expect me to fight if I can't build up momentum?" Nal spat back. "Fight on the other side of the hallway."

"I am!" Mat snapped. "But your reach with that weapon _is_ the entire hallway."

"It is not," Nal grumbled in defense. "The hallway is at least ten feet wide. My weapon is only six, _at most_."

Mat stalked forward, snatched away Nal's weapon, who protested with a 'hey', and put his side to the wall. Mat spread his legs as far as he could, while staying upright, took hold of the end of the pole and thrust it away. With a soft tink, the tip of the blade connected with the stone wall across the hall.

"I don't fight like that," Nal's voice was icy as she snatched away he weapon from Mat's improper and weak hold.

"Be that as it may, my point has been proven." Mat walked away, treading further down the bloody, dirty, and body filled hallway.

"You're bigger than me. You have at least a foot and a half on me." Nal said as she followed.

"If you didn't have your head shaved," Mat ignored the 'It's not shaved,' "people would think you're an elf. You're shorter than Zevran."

"By an inch!"

"Inch and a half, my dear," Zevran marked.

Nal rounded on the elf. "Stay out of this!"

"Will you _both_ stop whining," Alistair snapped at the two. "You," he shoved a finger and Nal, "stop swinging that thing around like someone possessed. "And you," Alistair whirled on Mat, "stop warning her nicely and just punch her next time, because if you don't I will."

"Screw you Templar," Nal hissed, reading her weapon for an attack.

"Speaking of Templars," Zevran pointed past the three who had stopped walking. Further down the hall a group of Templars had emerged from a room, weapons drawn. The group of nearly a dozen armored men rushed down the hallway, shouting battle cries.

"There is a desire demon behind the door," Wynne called out to the warriors ahead of her as they lined up, bottle-necking the hall the best they could. "Be on your guard."

Nal raised her weapon at the Templar rushing her, the blade connected with a clang before skittering off to the side of the armor. Nal cursed as she was forced to duck the possessed man's sword, by dropping to the ground in a crouch. His second was blocked with the wood of her glaive, which shook as a chip was taken out, sending reverberations down her arms.

"What are these Templars wearing?" Nal growled out, noticing her weapon had only made a dent in the man's armor. With another growl, she leaned back on one arm and struck out with her foot at his knee. While armored, the knee still shuddered under the blow, causing the man to stumble back a few steps.

Nal lifted her weapon again as the Templar came back, sword arm raised. Once more the blade met the plate armor with a clang and skid up the armor. This time, however, Nal guided the deflection and slid the weapon along the man's side aiming for the gap on the underside of the shoulder. The blade bit into flesh, making a deep incision in the Templar's underarm. Blood flowed down the metal, dripping off the wing-shaped guard.

The man moved to attack once more, ignoring his wounded arm and severed artery, compelling Nal to act quickly. She shifted her hands further up the pole and she let the point drop. Stopping the decent of the weapon Nal pulled forward, while purposely forcing herself off her precarious balance. Dropping onto her back, with a spear of sharp pain, the wing guard caught the backside of the Templar's knee, forcing him off balance as well. With his leg jerked out from under him the Templar fell back, hitting the stone floor with a resounding clang.

Nal scrambled back to her feet as the heavier man in his full plate struggled futilely to stand as well. Placing a foot on his armored chest stopped the attempt.

"Let's see if your armor can stop this one," Nal growled punching downward with her weapon. The blade slid between the eye slit and with a sharp pop entered the man's skull. Before she could remove her glaive from the dead man's head, a second Templar took the advantage of Nal's position and attacked.

Nal jerked the pole of her glaive toward herself catching the swung sword on the wood. With another jerk, this time to the left, she pinned the man's sword to the wall. Echoing under the sound of battle, that only Nal could hear due to her closeness to the body, were the sounds of cracking bone and grinding metal as she wrenched and yanked the dead man's head around on the floor.

Moving quickly, for she didn't have much time before the sword would be easily pulled from the pin, Nal unsheathed her dagger, released the wooden pole, and danced lightly forward. As the Templar pulled his weapon free of the poorly-executed pin – which was released halfway through – Nal moved into position, putting herself chest-to-chest – though it was closer to chest-to-face – and grabbed near the inside of the Templar's elbow, marking her target.

The dagger was embedded into his sword arm, above the elbow, piercing through the simple and soft leather. The Templar's arm, now useless, dropped the sword and hung limp. Leaving the dagger behind, Nal ducked under his swinging left arm, dodging the metal gauntlet meant for her head, while pulling out her second dagger. Spinning, Nal put herself chest-to-back with the Templar and plunged the metal between the helmet and plate armor, into the man's neck. He dropped instantly.

Looking over her shoulder to the door, Nal noted that Alistair had already made it past the Templars that had attacked him and was dispatching the demon of desire further down the hallway. Turning back, Nal came up behind the Templar Mat was currently fighting and finished him off with a neat incision of her dagger into the back of the man's neck.

Mat nodded his thanks for the help over the body before looking for another opponent. This turned out to be unnecessary; as the one just killed had been the last. Without anymore opponents, Nal moved back to her kills. A sharp tug pulled her dagger free from the Templar's arm and with a second pull, her glaive was out of the other man's skull. Nal then cleaned her blades of blood on the cloth wrapped around the Templar's waist before she sheathed them.

"All right," Mat said stepping forward. He held a cloth in his hand, using it to wipe down his sword. "Let's continue on."

* * *

The group continued to make their way through the tower halls, all-the-while killing abominations, shades, possessed Templars, a few rage demons, and as it turned out, a number of blood mages.

After another set of stairs, they came to a level of the tower where going into the center was the only option. Nal entered the main room behind Mat and Alistair, what greeted her was a room cover in ichors of the fade and a single abomination that stood before a limp form on the ground. Upon their entrance the demon turned around and greeted the group.

"Oh look, visitors. I'd entertain you, but," the creature let out a sound like a tired sigh, "too much effort involved."

Nal almost stumbled as she suddenly felt disoriented and as the ground beneath her feet began to spin. No longer hearing what was being spoken, she looked at the abomination standing before them and realized what it was, a sloth demon. Nal tightened her grip on her glaive and went to take a step forward. Another world flashed before her eyes and Nal started feeling nauseous as the walls joined in with spinning floors.

A whisper, like a gentle breeze, passed over her. Goosebumps traveled across her skin and Nal closed her eyes. The magic the sloth demon was excreting weighed heavily upon her. Nal never even felt herself hit the floor.

* * *

Mat has been travelling through the Fade for awhile now. He had no clue how much time has actually passed, but he could feel exhaustion, distant and faint in the background of his mind. He ignored the growing discomfort and continued the fight with the guardian.

The lieutenant of the burning tower dropped. Its fiery form dissipated when it hit the floor. A few feet away, glimmering, a pedestal appeared. Mat approached the stone exit and reached out. As his hand touched it the room shimmered and began to rearrange itself into a new realm.

The new dream took on the appearance of a place similar to where he had met Niall. This island was eerily silent and empty compared to his other companion's dreams. Mal moved forward, searching for Nal, the only companion he had yet to find.

After a few twists and turns, this place was larger than the others; Mat began to doubt it was actually the correct spot when a blood-curdling scream split the silence, forcing the hairs on the back of Mat's neck to stand on end. The Warden rushed forward, drawing his sword and rounded a bend to find a scene he had not expected and that proved that this was a nightmare and not a nirvana.

On her back, forced to the ground was Nal, blood running down her face. Pinning her was a large man, veins bulging in his thick neck. A large knife was against Nal's face, drawing a jagged line below her eye.

"I'll carve that demon's eye from your face, girl!" The man screamed at her, spittle flying from his mouth. "And you'll thank me for it!" The man dragged the tip of the blade further along her face, releasing more blood and forcing another cry from the girl below him.

Mat positioned himself for a charge, leveling his sword. "Nal!" Mat shouted for her attention. Whether she heard him or not was unclear. Mat had only made it a few feet when the man suddenly jerked.

Below him Nal and thrust her knee upwards, obviously startling and hurting the man, who had not expected resistance. In his surprise, and pain, he tumbled off of Nal, sending his knife skittering across the ground. On her stomach, Nal scrambled to reach the blade, her hand closing around the handle just as the big man recovered and went after her.

"I'll kill you bitch!" He roared. Nal rolled over and the man came down upon her once again, wrapping his meaty hands around her throat. The girl stuck, blade plunging to its hilt into the man's side. He roared again and rolled off of her only to be followed by Nal. She struck again, plunging the blade once more to its hilt into the man's chest. Mat thought she would be done, and was surprised as she plunged the blade again and again into the man, screaming in rage.

Blood was everywhere. The red liquid pooled beneath the man. It squirted up, splattering across Nal's already bloody face. It drenched her hand red, and she struggled to maintain a grip on the slick, bloody handle. The blade gleamed a sharp red as it rose again, only to be brought down once more.

"Nal!" Mat shouted and moved forward in a rush. "Nal," he called again, grabbing her shoulder. She whirled upon him, bringing the knife to bear. Mat caught her blood stained wrist in his hand and dropped his sword to pull her away from the butchered body.

No longer was Nal a self-controlled woman, but a frightened girl. With a simple jerk of his hand, she was unarmed and Mat brought her into a hug, pulling her tight against him, forcing her head rest in the crook of his neck. Her screams of rage turned quickly into sobs, her body shaking violently. Mat rubbed his other hand in circles on her back, maintaining his gentle hold on the back of her head. Together they sat in the Fade.

"It's okay," he murmured into her ear. "It's all right. It's over. He's dead, you don't have to be afraid anymore, it's over." Beyond Nal's should Mat saw the man's body shimmer, his human form vanishing into that of a twisted demon's. "Look Nal," Mat spoke gently, "he's not there anymore. He's gone. It's just a dream. It's just a dream."

Nal's shaking slowed and steadily lessened until it came to a stop altogether. Mal continued his rubbing until Nal shifted in his grip, pulling away. Her face, while still bloodied, had stopped bleeding. In fact the dream-wound had already healed, leaving a white jagged scar tracing the line where her skin turned from human pink to a scaly-looking, unhealthy light grey. Her eye was a glimmering gold that reflected the muted light in a manner similar to a cat. The pupil a dark circle in the middle.

"You know," Mat said the words tumbling out of his mouth in hopes of calming Nal, "I've never seen your eye before." At his words Nal turned her face away, removing the abnormal part of her face from his sight. That was when how _horribly_ self-conscience of her eye she must be stuck Mat like a Mabari hound in full charge. "I didn't mean it like that!" He back-peddled rapidly. "It's a fine eye. In fact is a great eye! On a beautiful face!" At that he spotted red, not related to any of the blood, spread across the clean right side of her face. Nal stood abruptly, her eye's glancing over to the mutilated demon corpse.

"I knew it was a dream," she said quietly, "but when I saw _him_," her voice faltered, "I felt nothing but fear. Just like I had back then."

Mat nodded his understanding and stood. "Well it's over now."

"Yes… so it is." Nal said, her form fading before it vanished completely.

A pedestal glimmered into existence next to Mat. He reached out, his hand touching the solid and smooth stone.

* * *

Nal emerged from the tower with the others ahead of her. She sighed tiredly, rubbing at the imaginary pain in her scar. The last remnants of the nightmare slowly fading. As they descended the stairs to the boat moored at the small dock, Zevran dropped back to walk beside her.

"Not feeling well, my dear?" The elf asked.

"No," was the short reply.

"I know this Antivan tea that helps cure head pains," Zevran tossed her a sly smile. "It also acts as a _wonderful_ aphrodisiac. I've had more than a few arousing incidents…" He trialed off at the irritated look Nal sent his way before chuckling gently. "I'll make some if you'd like."

"No, thank you," Nal said quietly. "I have my own tea. It comes without the side-effects of debilitation and inhibition-loss."

"A shame," Zevran said.

"Indeed." Nal drawled as she pulled off her glaive, putting the butt into the small boat, cramped even more now with Wynne joining, before she following with herself. Zevran wedged himself in closer than Nal preferred. The ride, however, was blessedly smooth and soon Nal found herself disembarking at the other dock and meeting back up with the rest of the party.

It was at camp, as Nal helped set up tents – she still hadn't secured her own – that Mat approached her. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting until she had finished. Nal dusted off her hands.

"Nal, can I talk to you?" Mat asked in a tone that put Nal on alert. Something inside of her said she wouldn't like this conversation.


	6. The Warming Knight

Invictus

There's such a sad love deep in your eyes

A kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes

I'll place the sky within your eyes

-David Bowie

~_As the World Falls Down_

Orzammar, the dwarven city, the _dreaded_ city, built underground and their current destination. If there was one thing Nal disliked – the feeling was better described as hated – was being underground. She felt confined, restricted, and with the right circumstances, her feelings could verge on panic. Nal could only assume that perhaps this uncontrolled and irrational fear somehow came down to the fact that the Old Ones had been imprisoned underground.

Perhaps it ran in her blood. That thought held no comfort at all. Nal shivered and pulled the cloak she wore tighter.

Zevran glanced over his shoulder and upon spotting Nal he dropped back to walk beside her. "Quite the view, no?" The elf was refereeing to the view on her left. It consisted of a mostly sheer cliff that if one simply fell off of they'd hit ever protrusion on their way down. However Nal doubted that the fall was what Zevran had meant.

Stretching beyond the cliff was a large lake, and on a crystal clear day as this, the water reflected the mirror image of the snowy mountains and blue sky. "If it wasn't so cold, it would be the perfect place for a swim."

"Sure," Nal agreed with a shrug, "if you want to break every bone on your way down."

"Always the optimist, you are." Zevran leaned closer to Nal and spoke in a silky voice. "It's what I like best about you."

"And here I thought you liked my…" Nal trailed off and paused as a breeze gently ruffled her hair. Within the wind, almost covered, was a faint whisper, like a soft tickle across the back of her neck. The breeze shifted and Nal's head perked up.

"Scatter!" Mat cried from the front. The group separated, parting to either side, barely getting out of the way as a large boulder crashed down where they once stood. From further up the mountain cries let out as darkspawn appeared and rushed down towards the separated party.

The mostly human group stood their ground as the darkspawn group met them. Nal planted her feet, wedging one against a rock behind her and putting her glaive point out towards a charging darkspawn. The Genlock running at her spotted the set up and tried to stop his charge. He couldn't stop his momentum in time and was instead stopped by the glaive entering just under his collarbone. With a quick flip the deadweight darkspawn was off her glaive and tumbling further down the mountain leaving red stains in the snow.

Nal punched the butt of the pole forward and caught the following Hurlock in the face, he stumbled back. Drawing the tip of her glaive in closer to her hand to compensate for the closer range, Nal sliced across, catching the darkspawn in the throat. She stepped aside letting the creature drop and bleed out.

"Rock!" Someone shouted. Nal glanced up, but the boulder wasn't coming towards her. Instead it landed somewhere diagonally up to her right. The ground shook upon impact and sent a number of darkspawn tumbling. Apparently the ogre had no regard for its allies.

Swinging her glaive through another darkspawn, Nal worked her way up the mountain, intent on reaching the rock-throwing ogre. Cutting through the ranks didn't prove especially difficult; it seemed that most of the darkspawn were content to fight everyone else. However, just as the ogre came into view – it was almost directly in front on her, near the cliff-side – the Alpha Hurlock appeared between her and the ogre with a threatening growl.

Nal steadied her position, brought her weapon up, and waited. "All right then," she murmured, "do your worst."

With a sound akin to a roar, the Alpha charged, Nal deflected the first blow down, bringing the wooden side up. She gave the darkspawn a strong rap with the pole and received a growl in reply. In the corner of her eye Nal saw someone go past, and if the fact the he was wearing splint mail meant anything, then it was Alistair.

The fight continued and Nal was only able to get in small blows. Nal wasn't sure how long she and the Alpha fought, but she eventually got in a sharp blow to the inside of the Alpha's knee, dropping him with a loud crack. She was just about to finish the darkspawn off when a roar caught her attention.

Nal looked up as the ogre bellowed again and charged Alistair, in a dying last ditch effort it ran itself onto the man's sword. The beast latched its enormous hand over Alistair's own, fully blocking any attempt to disengage. The ogre continued to push forward. Alistair slid easily back over the slick snow-melt, closer to the edge of the cliff. The ex-Templar let out a shout, gaining Mat's attention as well.

Dodging around her current opponent, Nal had a clear run to Alistair and the ogre. Right as she arrived the two went over the edge, Alistair going with a shout. Without thought, Nal tossed her glaive aside and dove over the edge.

Alistair had managed to shake the ogre off – or perhaps the monster was simply falling faster – and when he spotted Nal he looked very surprised.

Nal reached out, "Grab my hand," she shouted. Her words were whipped away by the rushing wind, but Alistair seemed to understand the significance of her extended hand. He grabbed it and Nal pulled him up against her, and flared her wings out. The wind filled them, jerking them up, and slowing their decent, but not nearly enough.

"I thought you couldn't fly!" Alistair shouted over the wind.

"I can't!" Nal replied, pulling out a dagger. "We're going to hit hard, the best I can do is drop us in the water." The dagger flashed down, sliding between flesh and leather, with a sharp pull, the blade came free, slicing the strap.

"What are you doing?" Alistair cried in panic.

"Getting you armor off," Nal responded without pause as she continued slicing straps. "You'll drown if we don't get it off. Undo my cloak, get it off me." Alistair obeyed the order and the cloak whipped off, flapping away. Not even a second later, Nal was quite ruthlessly pulling off Alistair's armor, once fully removed she let it go. It was quickly followed by Alistair's own cloak and a few of Nal's own personal effects.

Nal looked over Alistair's shoulder, finding the water, it was rapidly growing closer. They only had a little while longer, a few more seconds for rapidly spoken instructions.

"Don't worry about your boots; they're light enough to not pull you down," Nal spoke into Alistair's ear. "My leathers won't pull me under either. I'll protect you from the impact, you'll be fine." Nal looked back to the lake and tightened her grip on Alistair. She wrapped one arm across his back, gripping the opposite shoulder and twisted, tucking in her wings. Moving her hand to the back of his head, she tucked Alistair's head into the crook of her neck. Nal pulled her wings forward, wrapping them about Alistair, and their speed increased. She put her mouth near his ear once again, tucking her own head in for protection.

"Don't let me drown," she whispered. The two hit the water with a splash.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Nal followed Mat out of camp, stopping when he paused. They had gone beyond the edge of camp out of hearing of the others. Mat turned, face blank, and watched her for a while, his eyes focusing on her hidden scar. To most his scrutiny would have been uncomfortable, but Nal was used to stares, she received them every time she entered a town or city._

_Mat sucked in his lower lip and gnawed on it a few times, obviously debating with himself on how to start the conversation. With a sigh he released his lip and spoke, getting straight to the point._

"_Who was that man?" Mat said and then added at Nal's quirked eyebrow, "The man in your dream."_

"_Dylin," Nal answered simply. She continued, not waiting for Mat's questions. "He was one of the hunters in our group, but that's not a good place to start, to explain who he is or why he did what he did."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

As consciousness slowly came back, Nal could feel something pressing on her mouth. Air forced itself into her lungs, expanding her chest. There was a sharp pinch, as her breath hitched against the air going in, followed shortly by a wave of intense nausea and pain. Nal jerked to her right, hacking and coughing water up.

Tired and feeling weak, Nal rolled onto her back again. Pain lanced from the inside edge of her wing piercing into her shoulder. The world blurred and with a shout Nal forced herself to roll again, this time to her left. Shadows crept across her vision as she passed out.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"_The group that found me was made up of a bunch of people. Elves, thieves, exiles, gypsies, assassins-gone-rogue, mages, and just plain old run-a-ways," Nal explained. "They moved around, never stayed in one place for too long, it kept them from being noticed. However, from what I understand, they had problems with wild animals, even darkspawn raiding parties._

"_I was born with my eye," Nal gestured to her left eye, hidden by the patch she wore. "Short version, when I was found the problems went away. I honestly couldn't say if I made a difference, I'm more in favor of coincidence," Nal shrugged, "but that's what happened. I was given to a couple that had just had a child, but people where still suspicious that I was some kind of demon, and I was ostracized from everyone, even – to a certain extent – by the two that raised me. They were content to let me be on my own._

"_That's where Dylin comes in. I guess he was just superstitious in nature, 'cause he hated the mages as well, not as much as _me_, but still. I learned quickly to avoid him, he carried around this switch and he'd take it to me every chance he got. I swear to this day that he'd go out of his way to hit me with it._

"_Everything changed one day when the hunters had left and a few women had gone down to the river to wash clothes. I had gone off into the woods, like I often did to get away. At some point I heard screams, loud and piecing. It was the women. I don't know what exactly came over me, but I rushed over there. The screams had stopped and the tree women that had been by the river were dead, their bodies butchered. One of them was Dylin's wife. I knew they – particularly Dylin – would blame me, so I took off, ran away._

"_Dylin caught up with me. You saw what happened after that," Nal finished with a shrug._

_Mat studied her for a little while obviously thinking something through. Apparently figuring it out, he asked, "You weren't going to stop, were, you? So I'm wondering, who did stop you?"_

"_Cirino," Nal replied, "the man who raised me. He calmed me down, pointed me in a direction, and told me to run. He said he'd delay the others as long as he could. I don't know what happened after that, but they never did catch up or find me."_

_Mattan nodded. "Well I'm glad I could help you out this time around."_

_Nal couldn't stop the snort and the small smile. "Let's hope there won't be a next." She turned to leave, the conversation over. Mat stepped in beside her, walking with Nal back to camp._

"_Thank you for telling me Nali," he said with a smile._

"_Don't call me that," she growled half-heartedly, but she knew that out of anyone Mattan had earned the right to call her by the nickname her friends used._

** .**

**.**

**.**

The first thing that came to Nal she regained consciousness was that she was cold. And wet. She was on her stomach and there was a pressure across her back that sent shots of pain into her shoulder every time she took a breath.

The next thing that Nal noticed was the rhythmic sound of striking punctuated with curses. Opening her eyes, Nal spotted Alistair – also damp – kneeling by a pile of tender, striking at a flint in an attempt to get the wood to light and cursing every time he failed. He had clearly been at it for awhile if his choice of words meant anything.

Dimly aware she no longer wore her leathers, she took a second to absorb her surroundings. She was in a cave-like overhang, it wasn't particularly high, but it was fairly deep. The opening was wide and let in plenty of cold air. Cloth tumbling from her shoulders as she sat up made Nal hiss as pain darted through her right wing.

The sound she made caused Alistair to start and look back at her. Relief spread over his features and his shoulders drooped. "You're awake," his words were nearly a sigh. "I thought I killed you."

"How long has it been," Nal asked, taking note of the growing shadows outside.

"With glance to the entrance, Alistair responded, "Not long. An hour or two," Nal nodded at his words. "Mat called down to us, it was after I pulled you from the lake and you had started breathing again. He said he'd try to find a way down, they haven't shown up yet.

"I found our cloaks, though; they somehow didn't land in the water, and our packs. Mostly everything was dry in yours. I guess at least you were prepared, everything is soaking in mine.

"I gathered some wood and have been trying to get a fire going, but the wood isn't all dry, and it's not taking," his words were becoming frustrated and Nal could detect worry as he gestured helplessly at the tinder. "I can hardly feel my hands anymore, and I can't seem to stop shaking…" Alistair continued causing Nal to feel a wave of intense pity for the man; he almost looked on the verge of breaking down into tears.

He had done a lot, sacrificing the two cloaks for her unconscious body instead of using one. He'd even gone out and gathered wood and managed to reclaim, for the most part, all their belongings.

"Here," Nal interrupted his words. Ignoring the flare of pain, she grabbed her cloak – the thicker of the two – and wrapped it around Alistair's shoulders. Gently she took the flint and steel from his icy hands and faced the would-be fire.

Taking the pile of flakey tender he had, she placed it between her knees, and began striking until it began to smoke. Picking it up, she blew into the small pile, igniting a flame. Cupping it gently, Nal tucked the tender into the pile of wood Alistair had made. Nursing the flame with puffs of air, it slowly took to the other wood, smoking heavily. Pulling back coughing, Nal waved her hand in front of her face, trying to clear the smoke.

"At least you can do things right," Alistair muttered. Nal looked over to see him staring into the flickering flame.

"Alistair," Nal stretched her hand over, putting it on his shoulder. He shook it off and Nal let it drop. Nal looked down at her lap, studying her hands. Now free of her gloves, she could see the scars that littered her skin. Most came from the years of weapon practice she had gone through, learning to perfect her fighting. Tracing a particular scar, Nal spoke, "It's not about doing things right. It's about one thing and always has been." Nal looked up at Alistair, he was watching her. "Surviving. No matter what the cost. Duncan made sure of that."

With that, Nal moved to her pack and dug through its contents, spreading her wet clothing – and bed roll – near the fire, before continuing to search out what had survived and what had not. Hearing Alistair shift, he came into her view and grabbed his own pack before vanishing out of sight, before following Nal's example.

The useless items, like the bag of soaking wet jerky, went into the fire as fuel while the other items, the ones protected by wax, formed a neat pile beside her. Reaching the bottom of her bag Nal's hand came in contact with the item she truly sought. She pulled out a small wooden chest, her fingers brushed against the engravings before trailing down to the wax that not only sealed the box, but protected it from water.

Nal slid her nail through the wax before she popped the box open with a crack. The lid was stiff and opened with difficulty originating from having wax in its hinges. Once open, Nal sorted through the contents, checking for water damage.

The first thing that came out was a folded piece of paper, yellowing at its edges with age; Nal set it carefully down on a dry section of ground. The paper was followed by a neatly folded royal blue ribbon and a small tattered journal.

"You never struck me as the keepsake type."

Nal looked up and over to Alistair. He was watching her from his now empty pack. His wet clothes in a heap compared to Nal's, which were in a line near the fire to dry. She did notice, however, that he had tried hiding his underclothes at the bottom of the pile. That, for some reason, amused her.

Without answering, Nal returned to her personal items removing a ragged and slightly stained blanket doll. Wrapped within the doll was a crystal griffon. In its claws it held a vial of black liquid, the glass was unbroken. Nal sighed in relief as the sight, wrapped it back up, set it on the ground, and returned to work.

"What's this?" Alistair asked, sliding up next to her and picking up the folded paper. Nal looked over in time to see him opening it and looking at what was on the paper.

"Have you ever heard of privacy?" Nal grumbled at him.

Alistair ignored her complaint and showed her the drawing of the young woman on the paper. It was a sketchy portrait, obviously done quickly, of a woman with long dark hair and a flowing gown. "Who's this? She's beautiful."

"It's me."

Alistair's eyes grew wide and as his face rapidly turned red he stammered, "I didn't mean that. Well I did, this woman is pretty, you're not." He clapped his hand over his mouth as he realized what he said. "I didn't mean that either! You're pretty, but in a masculine way. I guess that makes you handsome. You're like one of the guys."

"So, I'm one of the guys?"

"No! You're a woman, but–" Nal cut him off.

"I get it." Alistair's head drooped and Nal returned to sorting through her box. The silence only lasted a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," Alistair mumbled. "I really put my foot in my mouth."

Nal sighed. "It's fine. I'm used to looking like this."

"Why was the picture drawn like this?" Realizing the question was a little impolite, he added, "I don't mean to be rude."

"You want to know why?" Alistair nodded. "It's because Cailan is an idiot."

"Cailan? The king drew this?"

"No, he had it done." Nal reached over, pulled the picture out of Alistair's hands, flipped it over and handed it back.

In the lower right corner, finely written, were a few lines of text. Nal had memorized those words many years ago.

_Nali, it's easy to look at yourself _

_and see what mares your skin, but_

_it's harder to see past them. Since_

_I know you're such a pessimist this_

_is for the times you can't see past_

_those scars._

_Always your opposite,_

_Cailan_

Alistair looked up at her and spoke. "That was kind of him."

"Yes," Nal agreed, taking the picture and folding it back up. "Like I said, he's an idiot. Or at least he was. He probably knows more than us, now that he's dead."

"You two were close?"

Nal shrugged. "Close enough. We didn't particularly like each other when we first met and we drifted apart after his coronation."

"Why?"

"Stuff happens. I was busy being a faux warden, scouting in the Wilds and such, and he was busying being a king and placating his wife."

"You don't sound like you like the queen very much," Alistair stated.

Nal felt her teeth clench tightly together. She took a breath before forcing herself to relax. "I don't like a lot of people," she said. "And most of those I did seem to be dead right now."

"Oh."

Nal began arranging things back into the box, once full again; she closed it with more force than needed. The wood hit with a snap, wax crumbled away in flakes, she'd reseal the box later.

"I'm sorry," Alistair said quietly. "I've been so wrapped up in my own misery; I guess I forgot how you lost everything too. We both lost Duncan and we both lost our fellow Wardens. I only knew them for six months; I can't imagine how you must feel. I've been the one whining and crying about it, and you've been so quiet, I thought you just didn't care, that you were cruel. So, I'm sorry."

With a sigh Nal set the box down and ran her hands through her hair. The wet strands brushed over her fingers, and she distantly marked in her mind how her hair was longer than she liked and she needed to cut it soon. "It's fine," she muttered. "A lot of people think the same thing. Duncan always told me that I needed to be stop being so distant from others." Nal gave a short laugh. "Duncan told me a lot of things, mostly dealing with my lack of people-oriented skills.

"It's strange, I've seen death, I've caused death, but I guess I never learned how to deal with it properly." Nal's shoulders slumped, her hands gripping tightly onto the box. It had been a gift from Duncan, when she had turned sixteen. She had teased him about carving the flowers on the box, how it had seems a tad feminine for him. It wasn't until now that she realized he had never told her where he got it from.

"He's gone and I don't know what to do. Duncan always told me what I should do, but he never told me what I should do if he wasn't around. He was _always_ around."

Nal felt Alistair's hand land on her shoulder and squeeze lightly. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"So am I," she whispered in return, clenching her eyes shut. She hadn't felt such burning in her chest for a long time.

Nal mentally shook herself, she didn't like dwelling in grief, it hadn't gotten her anywhere five years ago, and it wouldn't get her anywhere now. "We should get some rest. Maybe Mat will show up in the morning." Crawling on her hands and knees because of the low overhang, Nal made her way over to the cloak she had left further back and laid it out closer to the fire.

"You're, uh, wing doesn't look so good," Alistair pointed out.

Nal looked back at where he right wing peaked over her should. Halfway down the forearm of her wing, the leathery skin was swollen and oddly colored in comparison to the rest.

"So it would seem," Nal agreed. With a gentle touch, and a sharp stab of pain, she declared, "It's broken or at least badly fractured." Nali glanced about the cave, anything that could be used for binding was wet and with a sigh she chose the lesser of the evils. Grabbing the tie at the front of her shirt, she pulled the knot, and the string, out. From there Nal grabbed either side of the V and pulled, ripping her shirt.

"Whoa," Alistair covered his eyes as Nal began pulling off her shirt. "What are you doing?"

"This is currently the driest, and now the most ruined, of my clothing," Nal explained pulling the tie in the back out and ripping her shirt in half. "I intend to use it to bind the bone. Can you pass me the stick beside the fire?"

"Are you still naked?"

Nal cocked her head slightly. "I never was," she said, "but if you mean that I have my shirt off, then yes."

"In that case, no, I can't pass you the stick." His words made sudden sense.

"Alistair, have you never seen a woman naked?" He only sputtered in reply, so Nal took it as a yes. "I have lived most of my life among men and I learned very quickly that when a fellow traveler was injured, they often had to remove clothing so it could be treated. You'll find the same to be true in this situation.

"As this has obviously been a rude awakening for you, I offer some advice. Learn to deal with the fact that you travel with woman and you _will_ be seeing parts of woman you may not have previously seen, such as–"

"Okay! I get it. Here's your stick," Alistair interrupted, groping blindly for the stick, his eyes still jammed shut.

"I'd open you eyes before you shove your hands in the fire."

The ex-templar did so, keeping his eyes firmly directed to the ground. He grabbed the stick from the kindling pile and thrust it in Nal's direction, while keeping his head turned the other way.

"It's not like I'm even naked," Nal muttered, ignoring Alistair's idiocy. She took the stick, snapped it in two and then paused in her work as she realized she would not be able to wrap her wing on her own. She smiled and looked at the man, his eyes still firmly fixed in the opposite direction. "Alistair," she said, singing the syllables of his name.

Alistair was apparently not as stupid as Morrigan claimed for he seemed to figure out what she wanted and she had only said his name.

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head and not looking at her. "No. I'm not helping you unless you have something on."

"My other shirts are wet Alistair. Do you wish me to catch a cold death?"

"No, it's just I _can't_." His voice was pitiful.

"Baby," Nal called, but she pulled her left wing over, doing her best to cover her breast cloth and what skin it left exposed. It ended up covering most of her left side and but by spreading the fingers of her wing she covered the rest of her front. "This is the best I can do."

Alistair shuffled reluctantly over, staring at the ground the whole time. When he did arrive he whipped his head up so quickly, Nal was surprised he didn't break his own neck. She handed him the sticks to use as a splint, he took them and said, "I'm not sure I can do this, I don't know how to mend bones."

"You were giving some field training when you were with the Templars right?"

"Yeah, but–"

"You'll be fine then. This isn't anything any different than splinting an arm or a leg."

"But it's a wing," he said, continuing from before.

"That's okay, wings and arms are practically the same thing." Alistair still seemed dubious, so Nal continued on the anatomy lesson. "The shoulder is the point that connects to my back. The next joint is my elbow followed by my wrist and what comes off are my fingers." Nal flexed her fingers showing him how her wing opened and closed. She ignored the growing pain that came along with the action. "That leaves the forearm. See? It's just like any regular human arm. The only difference is that you're going to bind my fingers to my forearm."

"All right," Alistair muttered to himself, scooting closer to Nal, "I can do this."

Nal closed her eyes and steadied her breathing waiting for the pain. Alistair's fingers brushed the leather of her wing, ghosting along the inside of the last finger. She gasped and jumped causing herself to hit her head on the rocks above. Doubling over and clutching her now throbbing skull, she groaned. Alistair instantly started apologizing.

"Don't do that," She growled, clenching her teeth.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry," Alistair repeated before saying, "What'd I do?"

"Nothing, it's just the fingers are very sensitive. Please don't do that again, it's not a sensation I find I enjoy."

"Sorry," Alistair said again, but began working again, being more careful with where he put his hands. It took longer than Nal would have liked, but eventually Alistair had her wing wrapped up, the bone sandwiched between the two sticks. "There, done."

"Thanks," Nal said, turning around and shifting her other wing.

"Put some clothes on!" Alistair shouted, looking to the rocky ceiling and covering his eyes. In response Nal grabbed the cloak – Alistair's cloak – from the ground and wrapped it under her wings and around her body.

"Happy?" Nal asked. Alistair looked down at her, his cheeks a bright red.

"I suppose, but your shoulders are still… okay I get it, please stop looking at me like that." Alistair looked towards the cave opening. "It's getting dark. I was hoping Mat would be here by now."

"I'm sure he'll find us, but until then I suggest we get comfortable," Nal said tossing more wood into the fire and stoking it with a stick. "Are you still cold?"

"Yeah, but it's getting better," Alistair said. "I'm even feeling a bit warm, now." Nal looked over at his words; he was pale and still shaking.

"Alistair, that isn't a good thing," Nal said. "Come over on the other side of me."

"I'm fine," he argued. Nal interrupted before he could get anymore words in.

"Alistair, get your skinny ass up and move it over here," she emphasized her point with a finger directing him to spot she wanted him. He gave in and moved over to her left side. Using her wing she wrapped it around him and pulled Alistair against her, his cheeks instantly became red. She couldn't understand how his body was willing to spare the blood just to blush.

"You're _really_ warm," Alistair said.

"You'll find that's the case with all of my kind, including dragons," she told him, staring into the fire. "Some people believe dragons are able to harness that warmth and use it to breathe fire. Load of crap."

"What do you believe?"

"Couldn't tell you. I don't breathe fire. Not literally anyway." Silence fell between them and Nal realized tonight was quite possible going to be the longest night of her life and she was slowly, but surely becoming more uncomfortable with the ice block called Alistair pressed up against her stealing away the heat her body had started to produce as a last-ditch survival mechanism. It was then an idea came to her.

"Duncan used to tell me stories when I was younger. Usually when we had to camp outside for long periods of time. There was always one I enjoyed the best. Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure," Alistair said, his voice and body shaking as it began to shiver again.

"All right, it starts off like this. 'Before the Tevinter Imperium had formed, when man was still young and just learning to survive by sowing crops, humans lived in constant fear from the many beasts that roamed the land. One such creature being the dragons, but this is not a story of humans triumphing over them. No, this is a story of how dragons learned to breathe fire….'"

**.**

**.**

**.**

At some point they had both fallen asleep, Alistair still wrapped tightly beneath Nal's wing, covered with her own warm cloak. While Nal's sleep was fitful, Alistair seemed to sleep soundly and the only movement from him was when Nal herself moved to put more wood into the fire.

It was around dawn, when Nal felt fully awake, and when she could feel Alistair giving off his own heat, that she moved away. Wrapping the Warden in both cloaks and laying him down, she slipped away, grabbing a shirt – only damp in some places – and left the cave, pulling the clothing on over her head and tying it with a series of pulls and tugs to secure it tightly around the spot her wings met her back.

Outside, Nal surveyed the landscape, looking for any immediate dangers. She felt more of a lumbering oaf that she would have liked since her wing was bound, but Alistair had done a decent job, she only hoped that the bone had not needed any setting or she would be required to have it broken again in order for it to properly heal.

Finding nothing dangerous, other than that of a splattered ogre corpse, which seemed to have left half itself as a smear on the cliff wall, Nal returned to the alcove's entrance. Alistair still slept.

Sitting a few feet from the opening, Nal began to shiver, the cold seeping through her body, but she still had work to do and it hopefully involved finding Mat or at least helping him find a way quick way down to her and Alistair.

Nal, with her eyes closed, slowed her breathing, taking in gentle and calming breaths, and began to hum. It took a few coughs before she was able to hold a note and when it did she began humming through the scale, trying to find the correct frequency. It wasn't happening.

"Haven't done this in forever," she sang quietly, before returning to plain humming. The feeling almost like feathers dusting across her body was the only warning. Images began flashing through her mind and in them she saw darkspawn. Hundreds of darkspawn and her consciousness flickered between them, showing images through their eyes.

The connection lasted only a heartbeat before Nal broke it with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes opening as well. She shook her head and muttered, "Wrong one," before beginning again. This time she got it right.

Images of Wynne, Zevran, Morrigan, and the rest of the group flickered through her mind. Knowing it was Mat, she opened her mind to him, and in doing so she knew he would know everything that had happened in the past few hours, but that he'd gain freakish-instinctual knowledge of the quickest route he could take to get to her. She couldn't help but feel bad about the fact that he probably just found out what it was like to drown.

The image suddenly shifted, in which she saw herself, sitting on the ground. Nal broke the contact instantly, such an instinctual reaction that she didn't even realize it was Alistair until he spoke.

"Nal, what were you doing?" Alistair was just outside the entrance, supporting himself on the wall and rubbing his head like it hurt. Nal blinked at the use of her shortened name.

"Ah, sorry. I thought it wouldn't affect you. I guess I assumed wrongly."

"It's okay, just… what were you doing?"

"Calling," Nal replied. Alistair's face scrunched in confusion. "Um, I was trying to find Mat."

"How would you be able to…?" Alistair trailed off seeming to realize what she meant and how she'd be able to get in contact with Mat. "Like the archdemon," he said disapproval in his voice.

Nal grimaced at the words. "Not quite the same. Short range, and unlike the archdemon I'm not really capable of '_communicating,_' not in the truest since of the word, with those that share the taint. So, it's almost nothing like the archdemon if you think about it." Alistair still didn't seem to like the idea.

"Did the other Wardens know about you? That you could do this?" Nal nodded in affirmation. "Can it find us?"

"Yes they did and no, it shouldn't be able to."

"Shouldn't? That means there's still a possibility."

"Well, if it's been looking for me, it might have been able to sense that. " Alistair frowned. "Look," Nal snapped, "it's either freeze to death or get Mat down here possibly with a side of darkspawn!"

Alistair recoiled from her shout. "That's a little harsh, we have a fire and our clothes are mostly dry now. I don't think we'll freeze to death."

"_You_ won't freeze to death, but I'm well on my way. I would have been fine, but I gave my heat away to warm you up."

Alistair paled. "You're going to die?" He asked quietly.

"Aren't we all?"

"That's not funny," he muttered.

"I exaggerate in my anger," Nal sighed, standing up. "I might get a little sluggish and slightly incoherent, but I should be fine." She walked past Alistair and crawled back into their small cave. Sitting by the fire, she wrapped herself up in her cloak. "It was best I do that now than when I might accidently tell the archdemon everything from the number of Wardens to my shoe size."

Alistair sat down beside her. "Sorry," he said. "All it seems I do is make a right bastard of myself whenever you're around. Not that I'm not already one."

Nal waved him off. "Not that it counts for much, but my parents didn't keep me either."

"But you had Duncan."

Nal smiled a little at the mention of her mentor. "Yes and the other Wardens. Not all of us got along, but the ones in Ferelden and I did. The best family I could have ever asked for."

"Hey, do you remember Gregor? Big burly guy with a beard? Drank a lot?" Nal nodded and Alistair smiled. "He could drink anyone under the table, and he did quite often. We once challenged him to a contest, he said he'd drink a pint for every half we did. Beat us all. Duncan came in to find us all passed out, except Gregor, he was still drinking at the table." Alistair laughed.

"Yes, he had quiet the penchant for drinking."

"What, you don't approve?"

"It's not that. Simply he was so good at it that he managed, and he said under duress from the others, to mix my drink well enough with alcohol that I never even noticed. First and last time they did that."

"Why?"

"I never drank, Duncan warned me away from it, but apparently they had a bet going about what kind of drunk I was. According to Gregor the leading bet was that I'd be a friendly, cuddly drunk. And I was, at least until I punched the first person that tried to cuddle up with me. But after I attempted to start a fight with the next closest person Gregor stepped in. Hauled my drunken backside back to my room. Thus ended the escapades of a drunken girl named Nali."

Alistair snorted and shook his head. "Remind me not to let you drink anything but water from now on."

"Hey, I'm generally an amiable person." Alistair gave her a look. "I just haven't been for the past... five years."

"That's a long time."

Nal shrugged and said partly joking. "I'm young, angry, and jaded."

"Why?" Nal blinked a couple times.

"What?"

"Why?" Alistair repeated. "Why do you feel that way?"

Nal stopped and thought for a few seconds before replying. "Have you ever come to the realization that you can't be a child anymore? That you have to grow up? That there are duties you need to perform and there is no way around them? When I came to that realization I was devastated. This sounds selfish, and it is, but I didn't want things to change. When we first knew the Blight was starting, I knew…" Nal trailed off closing her eyes as pain clenched in her chest. Duncan's words came unbidden to her mind. _I need to speak with you Naliana… Now, please. It's very important… _Nal forced them away. "I knew… people, were going to die. I thought I was prepared, but I guess I wasn't."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Alistair said and the two drifted off into silence. The pressure inside her chest grew worse and her eyes prickled. With a feeling she had only felt a few times in her life, Nal spoke.

"Alistair," there was unmistakable pain in her voice. "I'm going to die."

Alistair blinked a few times before he replied, slight joking in his voice. "I know you're a bit of a pessimist Nali, but that seems a little depressing even for you."

"I never told anyone, not even Cailan and he knew _everything_ about me," Nal looked into the fire, watching the wood slowly blacken. "Remember how I said, that the number of dragonspawn diminish with each Blight?" Nal didn't wait for Alistair's answer. "Every Blight, every time an archdemon dies, their descendants die. Or at least the descendants that are like me."

"Maker's breath," Alistair murmured then asked. "You know this for certain?" Nal nodded her head.

"It's not widely known, but in the second Blight another of my kind aided the Wardens, he left a journal, copied many times over since then, I myself carry one, but I digress. My point is that in the journal he confesses that he feels an attachment to the archdemon. An attachment to the point that he could often sense its thoughts and feel its strength, that he could tap into this and rejuvenate himself should he grow fatigued."

"Well, that's a good thing right? You could help us with knowing what the archdemon plans."

"That's what he did," Nal acknowledged. "At least until the archdemon began actively hunting him. He had to constantly hide and run from them, he could no longer give aid until he had shut himself off from the demon. A more difficult task than it sounds. I've never made that connection, Duncan and the First Warden agreed on the point that it would be too dangerous. I could accidently give away information or get myself and a group of Wardens killed. Again I digress.

"The last page of the journal is a note from his friend stating that, while he participated a great deal during the fight, his death came shortly after the slaying of the archdemon. He only lived for about an hour after the blade took its head. He showed no mortal wounds and took no massive blows. It's described that he seemed to fall irreversible ill and suffered wrecking pains until he died."

"Maker's breath," Alistair muttered again, "and that's what's going to happen to you."

"Most likely," Nal agreed.

"What were the other Wardens going to do? What was Duncan going to do?"

"If I survived past the slaying, make me as comfortable as possible. Jaired was an expert herbalist; he would've hopefully been able to mix something that would dull the pain."

"Maker's breath, they're all dead now. What are you going to do?"

"Hope I die quickly."

"Maker's breath," Alistair repeated for the fourth time.

"Please don't say that again," Nal requested.

"Sorry," he muttered, lapsing into silence. Nal easily joined him, before a thought came to her.

"You can't tell anyone else about this," her voice was hard.

"What?" Alistair had jumped at her sudden words. "Why?"

"There is no point in worrying the others about something that can't be changed."

"I guess I can understand that." Again the two fell into silence, this one lasting much longer and Nal could feel her eye drooping closed. She pulled her knees up and laid her head on them. She opened her eye again when Alistair spoke. "If we're confessing things, I should tell you something as well."

"That's not really how confessions work," Nal murmured.

"I know, but I want to get it off my chest," he paused and Nal watched him. She had an idea about he might tell her, but she waited for him to speak. "I'm king Maric's bastard." He looked at her to see how she took it. "You don't seem very surprised."

"I knew both Maric and Cailan. You bare a uncanny resemblance to both your father and your brother."

"You already knew," he sounded almost accusing, like she had just ruined a surprise. Nal shrugged.

"Guess you'll have to tell me something else," she smirked. Alistair's jaw tighten in thought. He was silent for a minute before he spoke.

"Spiders," he finally said. "I'm afraid of spiders."

"Spiders?" Nal said, disbelief in her voice.

"Not those little ones," Alistair held up his hand, showing her with his thumb and finger what he meant by little. "I'm talking about those _big_ ones," he brought up his other arm to show her the size of the big spiders. "Like the ones you find in the Wilds or the ones we found outside Lothering."

"There were giant spiders outside Lothering?" Alistair nodded. "Huh, they don't usually migrate out of the Wilds. I guess the darkspawn horde was bigger than I thought."

"Lovely," Alistair murmured, "as if our odds weren't bad enough."

"It could be worse," Nal said feeling clichéd.

"Oh?"

"The archdemon could be flying rampant, destroying and burning every city and town it came across. Which, I find interesting. Every other archdemon has usually shown itself and laid waste to something fairly early in its Blight. Yet this one remains underground. It's an unusually smart tactic."

"What does that mean then?"

"Nothing good no doubt," was Nal's answer. The two warriors became silent again. Nal closed her eye and let her breathing slow.

"Hey, Nal," Alistair whispered. Nal hummed to show she was listening. "Can you sing?"

"What?" She asked.

"I was just wondering if you could sing, because, you know, earlier…" Alistair trailed off.

"Yeah," Nal murmured, "I can sing."

"And that's how you contact the archdemon and the darkspawn?"

"No, the singing is merely a tool that helps put me into the right mindset."

"Oh." In the silence Nal began to drift off, she was so close to sleep she wasn't sure if she dreamed Alistair's next words. "You should sing more often, you have a nice voice."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Nal's eye snapped open to Alistair hitting his head against the low ceiling. "Ow," he groaned, clutching his head and slumping back down.

"Welcome to the Cracked Skull Guild," Nal smiled.

"Har har," Alistair laughed sarcastically and crawled quickly out of the cave.

Nal shifted position to follow. "What is it?" She asked

"It's Mat, I can feel him."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I can only sense him." Nal stood up next to Alistair and looked in the same direction as the Templar. He was staring intently at the grouped conifer trees as if expecting something to come out. There was a rustle in the forest and Nal's hand instinctually dropped to her hip seeking the familiar feel of the hilt.

Her heart stopped when she discovered the twin blades weren't there and Nal recalled shedding the blades when she and Alistair were falling. She felt the already stopped organ drop. Those blades had been a gift from Tarimel, a Warden and good friend, the twin blades were beautiful Dalish styling. Nal would miss them dearly.

The rustle came again and, pushing a branch out of their way, came Mat, Zevran, and Leliana. Mat spotted the two of them standing together and smiled.

"Nali! Alistair!" He shouted, moving towards the two warriors, Leliana and Zevran close behind. Upon arriving, Mat threw open his arms, embraced Nal, picked her up and spun around. "I'm so glad to see you're alive."

"Put me down," Nal groaned and Mat complied, dropping her. Mat turned to Alistair and Nal stumbled away on wobbling legs. Zevran put out his arms to catch and steady her, but Nal collided harder with Zevran than anticipated and the two almost fell before the elf could steady them both. "I'm going to be sick," Nal moaned as the world kept spinning. Zevran held onto her shoulders to steady her and she held onto his arm for added support.

"Ah, we have found your weakness then," Zevran said merrily.

"Yes, spinning makes me nauseous and dizzy," Nal confessed sarcastically. "Try it and I'll puke all over you." Zevran laughed with delight.

"Oh, my dear," Leliana came forward, "are you all right? What happened to your wing? Is it broken? We must get you to Wynne at once."

"Come on, we need to get going," Mat spoke before Nal could answer Leliana's barrage questions. He and Alistair were carrying the supplies that had survived the fall.

The group moved towards the woods and as they walked Mat explained how they found them. "After you contacted me, it was strange. I knew exactly where to go and how to find you. By the way," he added, "don't ever do that again, it was… uncomfortable."

"Sorry," Nal said with sincerity. She was walking on her own, but Zevran had taken her Mattan-induced dizzy spell as a reason to walk closely.

"We left the others on the cliff-side, they decided not to take the daring climb," Zevran said.

"It wasn't as bad as it looked," Leliana added. "It was almost like someone had put it there. It was quite a lovely path; if a little narrow as times."

Mat gave a short laugh. "You do it too much justice Leliana. We had to walk sideways most of the way, holding onto any hand-holds we could find." He looked at Nal. "It was still easy enough though. Won't take us long to get back up and to Wynne. Ah, here it is."

Nali looked up at the cliff side; hardly noticeable was a winding edge, just wide enough for the length of ones feet. Dotting along above the walk way – if it could even be called that – were cracks, holes, and divots someone could use as hand holds.

"Well that's… oddly convenient," Nal murmured to herself.

"Let's go every other," Mat instructed, "Put Alistair and Nali in between ones that made the climb already. Leliana, Alistair, me, Nali, and Zevran can pick up the rear."

"With pleasure," the elf purred, eyeing Nal. She sent him a glare which only made him smile wider and wink at her. She shook her head and went to turn away when the sun glinting off something caught her eye. Nal focused on it and couldn't help but to laugh happily. Hanging from a branch in the tree was her dagger belt, both blades still sheathed and undamaged.

"My daggers," Nal breathed. "How in the…" she shook her head. "Who am I to question the powers of beings greater than myself?" Nal went to tree and reached out for the first branch, but was stopped by a hand on her arm pulling her back. She turned to face Zevran.

"I'll get it," he said, looking at the daggers before flashing Nal a smile. "Wouldn't want you taking another fall and breaking your neck this time."

"I am a proficient climber," she half-heartedly argued.

"Are you now," Zevran said slyly pulling himself up onto the lowest branch.

"That wasn't a euphemism," Nal said, the elf only laughed and climbed higher.


	7. Journey to the Center of the Deep Roads

Hello. I am such a loser. Sorry this took so long to all of my readers. Class was a pain and then I had to drown all my sorrows in copious amounts of chocolate and ice cream. And of course in multiple video games. (DA2, Portal 2, and some more ME2 - gotta love them). Hopefully I won't be so busy with my new class. Yes, I'm taking classes over summer. One actually. Ornithology!

I have read through this a couple of times, so maybe my grammar/spelling isn't too bad. Something about this bothers me, but I figured I made you all wait long enough, so I'll just try to do better on chapter eight.

Thank you for reading loyal readers! I have a question/explanation at the end that I wouldn't mind help with.

* * *

Invictus

Come armed,  
Or prepared to die  
There is no other end to this road

-_ The Two Towers (Ash and Smoke)_

After Mat had returned her glaive and after Wynne had healed the broken bone in her wing – "The bone has already begun healing quite well and I can fix it enough to be useable, but I suggest you be careful" – and Nal had had a good stretching – "Maker's breath Nali, that's like a ten foot wing span you've got there." "Is that representative of anything else you have, my dear?" "Shut the hell up," – the group had moved off and on their way to Orzammar once more.

It took a few more days to arrive, but the dwarven city proved as dreadful as Nal had anticipated. They had gotten into not one, but two fights on the doorsteps of the city. One was with a group of bounty hunting fools (how everyone knew with a single look they were Grey Wardens was beyond her), and the second with some of Loghain's fools.

'King' Loghain's fools. Nal didn't know which irritated her more. The fact that these idiots called Loghain king or that Loghain was calling himself king.

She killed them happily.

Inside they learned that no one would help them until the dwarves had a king. So they performed a few tasks, killed the local Carta leader, and even after all that, they were then told to go find a paragon to pick the king. It was at this moment; before they entered the Deep Roads that Mat, frustrated and obviously irritated, decided to call it a 'day.'

The group returned to their rooms at the Tapster's Tavern. Where, for the first time, the group had a good hearty meal with a nice loaf of bread, or at least the dwarven equivalent.

The stew, consisted of a meat Nal didn't want to think about – probably Nug – and a liquid she wished she didn't have to put in her mouth – probably Nug piss. The bread was flat, round, and hard. And since Nal had come late for the food she received a hard, crusty, and burnt end piece. Nal scowled at the hunk of not-really-bread bread, even looking on the bright side, she hated end pieces.

"Sorry," Alistair shrugged when she had asked if he wanted to trade. "I don't like them any more than you." He cringed as the hunk of meat he put into his mouth crunched.

Nal sighed, she had asked around and been denied, the only person that liked the heel of bread was Leliana and she had already gotten the other end – which looked a fair bit nicer than her own.

She debated not eating it for about two seconds before she threw out the idea. She had gone hungry too many nights in her life to leave food uneaten with a clear conscience. Even Duncan had encouraged the completion of a meal unless left with no other choice.

She looked over to the only person she hadn't asked.

With a sigh, she stood from the short table and, taking her hunk of bread, moved to where Zevran was now sitting with Mat and Morrigan. Alistair watched her go.

"Hey Zevran" she said approaching the elf. "I'll trade you my bread for yours." He looked at her hand, spotted the piece in question and shook his head.

"I'll have to pass," he said. Nal sighed and went to leave, resigning herself to eating bread that would shred the roof of her mouth. "However," pausing, she turned back to the elf, "I will give you mine if you give me a kiss." Nal clenched her jaw and narrowed her eye.

"I don't want your sloppy, wet kisses on my face," she said.

Zevran put his hand to his heart and mocked hurt. "My dear, you wound me. I can assure you, with the testimony of many others, that my kisses are anything but–" Nal interrupted him by shoving her hunk of bread into his open mouth.

"Shut up and eat your food," Nal growled. She looked down to where Zevran's piece was resting and grabbed it. She smiled and turned to return to her seat by Alistair.

As she left she head Mat laugh and say, "I guess you two have something in common after all."

"T'would seem she and the oaf have grown close after their little tumble off the cliff," Morrigan replied.

"Perhaps when we leave this dismal place, you and I could have a little stay at the cave of wonders," Zevran purred. If Morrigan had replied to what the elf said Nal was too far to hear.

After the meal, Nal was walking down the hallway to the room she shared with Morrigan when Rook bounded up to her. Pressing himself against Nal, he whined.

"Yes, I agree dog," she said, dropping her hand to his head. "Despite lava being everywhere, this inn does seem colder than outside. Maybe I should sleep next to a lava flow tonight."

Rook whined again.

"Perhaps," Nal agreed again. "There has got to be a warm place somewhere."

The dog barked and jumped in front of her, bouncing around.

"You know somewhere warm?"

Rook barked his assent and trotted off, Nal followed close behind. The dog stopped in front of a small door – perhaps that was needless to say, it _was_ made for dwarves. Rook barked and sat proudly.

"We can't just go into someone else's room," Nal said.

Rook huffed in disagreement.

"This isn't a room?" Nal looked at the door and shrugged, throwing off all reservations she grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. With it came a rush of warm air and Nal sighed contently. Without further regard, she entered the small, surprisingly close-to-empty closet with Rook right behind her. Once he had entered after her, she shut the door.

"A little dark," she muttered and moved a few brooms to sit on the ground. Rook settled himself down beside her, his head in her lap.

The door opened, letting in light and framing a lithe silhouette. "I don't recall this being your room." Zevran said. "It's warm in here," he added.

"Get in or get out," Nal murmured, closing her eyes. Surprisingly, Zevran chose out. He closed the door, plunging her and the dog into darkness. She sighed and Rook did the same. She was about to doze off when the door was pulled open once again and jumped when something was dumped on her.

"We can at least make ourselves comfortable," Zevran said. "I refuse to sleep on bare stone." The door closed. "It's a little dark in here, no?"

"You're ruining the mood," Nal grumbled, but reached into a pocket sewn into the hem of her pants and pulled out a small stone. She rubbed it between her hands, cupped it to her mouth and blew. The stone, reacting to the friction and air, glowed. It created a small light in the dark room. "There, so the _wittle_ elf can sleep."

"Thank you," Zevran said and began spreading out the armload of blankets he had brought across the floor, actually forcing her to get up and move so he could lay some of the cloth where she was sitting.

Nal sighed as she resettled herself and tossed the mage-stone to lie on the blankets in the middle of the room. "This is much better than that chilly room they gave us," the elf muttered, getting comfortable. The rooms weren't really 'chilly,' or even cold for that matter, but Nal – and Zevran it seemed – enjoyed much higher temperatures than the Tapster's Tavern offered.

"Yes, this does feel nice," Nal quietly agreed. "It must be above a lava flow."

"If I don't think too hard, I almost feel like I'm in a sauna back in Antiva City."

"Don't remind me of better times," Nal said, shifting to press her stomach against the warm blankets while supporting her head with her arms. Rook rolled over, putting his back against her side.

"You… have been to Antiva?" Zevran asked, surprise lacing his voice.

"Once," Nal replied, "I spent about two years there. I went up with a friend, he was visiting family."

"Introducing you to the parents, eh?" Zevran said slyly.

"Hardly," Nal scoffed, "he was a friend and a Warden. I should mention that I use the word family loosely. They were relatives that had cheated him out of something. He held the grudge for many years and kept his ears open for word. He eventually heard that they were in Antiva City, I said I would like to come with him and off we went."

"And you stayed for two years; did you have trouble finding these people?"

"Not really, they had a crow-shaped shadow that followed them. We stayed because it was a nice break. Warm, sunny, and a little monster slaying on the side. What more could I ask for? I enjoy travel, I was never meant for a stationary life."

"You travelled frequently then?" Zevran asked.

"As often as possible. I have been in almost every land of Thedas and enjoyed every moment of it," Nal said. Rook yawned and stretched, pressing himself more against Nali. She lifted her wing and rubbed it gently against him.

"When we first met, the way you acted, I truly thought you did not know what, who, the Crows were." Nal shrugged the best she could on the floor, it was an awkward motion. "Have you had many experiences with the Crows then?" Zevran asked.

"Not really and only while I was in Antiva. They did ask the Wardens to aid them with one contract though. We got this information second hand, but I guess some landowner sent in for aid, said a monster was hunting on his lands. That it was nothing he had ever seen before. The Crows sent out a group. Only one came back and severely wounded."

"Yes," Zevran interrupted, "I remember hearing about this, I had been on another contract at the time, but I had heard a rumor when I got back that the Crows had enlisted outside aid with a group that knew much more about the situation. The Crow that had been hurt couldn't talk about what had happened. He was long dead before I got back, but I heard the only thing they got out of him was that it was some unnatural monster."

"And right he was," Nal said. "It was a dragonspawn. One far warped beyond me and very… angry." Nal sighed heavily. She could recall with perfect clarity the fight. What had happened during the battle was one of the few things that haunted her.

"It was quite the awakening into reality of what I was capable of becoming should I allow myself. He – it – was very hard to bring down. Luckily no Wardens were severely injured.

"Let me give you a few words of advice. If you are ever to face one of my kin, each one has an interesting trick. Strength, poisoned claws or teeth, near impenetrable flesh, or even strangely keen reflexes. When, if, you fight, find what theirs is quickly, then stay out of range or formulate a plan to best it. They can easily overpower an opponent with their trick."

"Fine advice," Zevran said, "but now I must ask. What is yours?" Nal decided to answer the question in a different way.

"If you think I'm stupid enough to tell you my greatest asset," she started, "you need to get your head checked. But I will tell you this, the one I fought had so much strength in his kicks that it could break rocks five feet thick, but he always had to wind up for it first. Keep in mind, it's not always physical.

"Ah, it's also best to fight in numbers, if you come across one and you are alone, I would suggest you run and quickly. Better yet, don't be seen… or smelled… or heard. In fact, you'd be better off if you just stayed away from my kind in general. Maybe you should leave." Zevran only smiled at her attempt.

The two fell silent and in that silence Nal closed her eye, getting comfortable. The light of the mage-stone, which she could see through her eyelid, shifted.

"Where did you get this?" Zevran asked. Nal didn't bother to open her eye and look at the elf.

"A mage made it for me," she answered, "when I visited the tower for the first time. He expressed an interest in joining the Wardens, probably more for the sake of getting away from the tower."

"And did he?"

"No, the Knight-Commander shot that idea down faster than lightning strikes." Nal paused to think as the memory of that day came to her. "If I recall correctly, he ran away that night. It was quite interesting to watch. The templars acted like they were used to it and the other mages were making bets on how long it'd take before he was dragged back. I found the reaction peculiar."

"You know," Zevran said, "I believe this is the first civil conversation we've had."

"Shut your whore mouth, you knife-eared back-stabber," Nal threw in a rude hand gesture for good measure.

"Ah, there's the woman I know," Zevran laughed. It was at this point they both fell quiet for the rest of the 'night.' The 'morning' brought a rude awakening delivered by Mat himself.

The door was yanked open so hard it bounced against the wall with a bang and rebounded only to be stopped by the Warden's hand with a smack.

"What in the Maker's burning, torturous hell, that you're soon going to find yourselves in, are you three doing in here?" Mat shouted at the trio. Nal hadn't seen him look so angry before, and she also noted with a keen eye, that Mat had darkening bags under his eyes. "I've been looking for three hours trying to find you, that's an hour each. Get out!" He stepped aside to let the three out of the closet. "I'm putting you all on dinner duty for a week."

Rook whined, cocking his head to the side. Mat's face hardened at the dog's back talk.

"_You_ don't get dinner for a week," he pointed at the dog as he spoke.

Rook whined and dropped his head in submission.

"Go get your stuff and meet us outside the inn," Mat ordered, his blue eyes icy. The two went to move down the hall, but Mat reached out and grabbed Nal's arm, she looked back at him, but he waited to speak until Zevran was gone. "Alistair already got your pack," he said and moved down the hall the opposite way of the elf.

Nal followed him tracing the edge of her eye patch. She was surprised at Alistair's action, Nal knew they had settled their differences – for the most part – but she didn't think the templar would have gone out of his way, especially into a room Morrigan occupied, to help.

When the two warriors got outside the inn said templar handed Nal her pack and glaive. "Thanks," she murmured, hooking the pack to her belt and the glaive to her back. When the elf finally joined them the group headed to the deep roads only to be stopped by a dwarf right before the entrance.

They were waylaid almost immediately.

Oghren, as the dwarf called itself demanded to accompany the Grey Wardens into the Deep Roads to search for its 'wife,' Branka. Mat didn't seem to like the idea, but since they were looking for her as well and the 'Oghren' had a map of some part of the Deep Roads, Mat agreed to let the dwarf join them.

"I suppose was could use another blade in the Deep Roads," Mat acquiesced.

"Great," Nal wrinkled her nose at the dwarf's smell, "a fuc–"

"Nali!" Mat snapped, cutting off her swear.

"What? I was going to say a fu…" Nal stretched the word as she tried to think of something that would match what she had been about to say, "a fun… a funky dwarf."

"Uh-huh, sure," Mat nodded his head and led them into the Deep Roads.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Surprisingly, the road part of the Deep Roads were in decent condition and the group managed to stay on them for most of the way to Caridin's Cross, only having to veer off when they found places the ceiling had fallen.

"You know," Alistair said from beside her, "pretending I don't know the darkspawn made these, I might would think giant worms had." Nal wrinkled her nose at that thought.

"That's disgusting," she replied. "Just imagine it." Alistair's brow furrowed. "Giant gaping mouths, fifty feet long, slimy, and you are currently walking in worm crap." He looked down at the ground when she said that.

"You know what, I think you're right. Giant worms are disgusting."

"I'm glad we can agree on that," Nal smiled. Alistair's grin turned to a frown as he looked past her. Nal spared a glance to her other side and sighed. Zevran stepped up beside her, tossing the mage-stone from hand-to-hand. It was glowing softly.

"You know, this is quiet the unique item. I find it very interesting." Zevran sent the stone spinning into the air. It glowed brighter. He caught it and held it out to her. "But alas, I have come to return it."

"Keep it," Nal shrugged, "I have more."

"Truly?" Nal just shrugged again. "Grazie." The still glowing stone vanished into some hidden pocket. "I should give you something in return."

"No thank you."

"You know, you are very unapproachable from this side. I think it is that bulky patch you wear so often. Do you wish to trade sides, Alistair?" Nal sighed again and Alistair out-right ignored the elf. Zevran didn't seem to mind, he was nothing if not persistent. "You have your eye, no? I hear it is a beautiful shade of gold." Zevran's voice dropped to a purr. "My favorite color is gold."

"Watch your knee," Zevran's face showed a flash of confusion before his shin and knee connected with a jutting rock. The elf fell back cussing in Antivan, Alistair bust out laughing and Nali chuckled lightly. Zevran said a few pointed, and very rude, words to them.

"That's not very nice," Nal said over her shoulder.

Zevran limped a couple times before he seemed to shake off the impact. He didn't, much to Nali's delight, reclaim his place beside her. "You speak Antivan?" His tone was gruff, revealing that he was still in pain.

"Quiet well," she confessed. "It was probably my first language, actually."

"Dove vai bella ragazza?" Zevran said saucily. Nal sent him a rude hand gesture over her shoulder in response. "An appropriate reply I suppose," he laughed.

Zevran was cut off from saying anything more as Oghren spoke from the front. "Ortan Thaig," the party stopped and took in the sight the light of their torches allowed. Buildings were crumbling and crumbled. Large stones rested haphazardly across the ground and nearly everything sported spider webs.

"What. A. Dump," Nal said her words echoing across the cavern.

"Hey," the dwarf rounded on her, shouting loudly. Nal's ears picked up the sound of skittering spider legs from above and she glanced briefly to the shadowed ceiling. "This is our history! Don't speak ill of it!"

Nal held up her hands. "Of course. How could I be so," she let her eyes rove over the desolate scene before of her, "rude," she concluded. Oghren gave a sharp nod, seemingly pleased with himself for setting her straight and turned to walk into the long abandoned Thaig.

A spider promptly landed on top of him.

This one spider's action apparently inspired the others to descend from the ceiling and attack. They came down chittering and attacking with surprising speed.

"You have got to be kidding me," Alistair groaned beside Nal, dropping his torch and hefting his shield and sword.

"What's wrong Alistair," Nal joked stabbing the first spider that charged her in the eyes. It went down, legs and pedipalp twitching. "Is there something here you don't like?"

"Oh aren't you funny," Alistair blocked another spider with his shield and took off two of its legs with a swing of his sword. It chittered angrily as Alistair shoved it away with his shield. The spider toppled over, unable to support its weight. Alistair finished it off, severing its thorax nearly in half. He looked back at Nal after the kill. "Maybe I should drop you in a lake, see how well you swim."

"Hardy-har har," Nal huffed, tossing another spider off the blade of her weapon. It tumbled away, landing on its back, feet in the air.

A screeching spider caught Nal's attention and she turned in time to see it charge Alistair, who barely managed to get his shield up, putting it between him and the spider. The weight of the creature forced him to the ground, where the spider tried to sink its fangs into Alistair's face, currently without luck. However, with the way the spider was slamming its body onto the shield that wouldn't be the case for much longer.

"Watch out," Nal called in warning to Alistair, shoving the blade of her glaive between two legs and into the thorax of the spider. Sinking the weapon up to the wing guard Nal pushed forward, stepping over Alistair as she dislodged the spider and pinned it to the ground. The spider screeched and writhed as Nal viciously twisted the blade around. White fluids flowed freely from the wound.

Pulling the blade out and the weapon back, Nal stepped away and took a defensive position near Alistair, ready to protect him as he got unsteadily back to his feet.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned hefting his shield and sword back into position.

"Don't forget the nightmares." A short burst of flame sent a couple spiders skittering away, while one not startled got a blade pinning its head to the ground. A sharp twist severed something important and the arachnid went limp.

"For the rest of my life!" Alistair gave a hard swing at an oncoming spider, splitting its head and most of its thorax in half and then threw it away with his shield.

It took couple more minutes of fighting and a few more waves of spiders before any resemblance silence finally claimed the old Thaig once more.

"Is anyone hurt? Did anyone get bitten?" Wynne called to everyone. The responses consisted of shaken heads and murmured negatives, but Wynne still traveled between them checking for and healing wounds.

"Here," Nali moving to Alistair, who was sitting on a rock looking sick, and held out a couple of leaves and a skin of water. "Chew on the leaves and slowly sip the water." He looked at the green items in her hand dubiously. "It's mint," Nal clarified, "it'll help you feel better."

Alistair took the leaves and stuck them in his mouth chewing slowly before replacing his elbows on his legs and putting his head back between his arms. Nal took a seat on a nearby stone, shifting her wings away as she pinched them uncomfortably. They sat in silence and Nal swung the water skin idly.

"I hate spiders," Alistair moaned, his words slightly garbled by the wad of leaves in his mouth. He stretched out his hand towards her.

"I understand, I hate water," Nal said, handing the water skin over. "Don't swallow the leaves, they won't hurt you, but it won't help either." The blond warrior tilted his head back long enough to take a small sip of water.

"Yeah, but at least water doesn't swoop in from behind and attack."

"Perhaps, but water still leaves me nauseous and breathless." Alistair looked up at her.

"You really are afraid of water," he seemed surprised that she had told him the truth.

"Oh yes, I'm quite horrified by it. When it comes to the idea of drowning, it becomes quiet hard to breath, and I do not intend the pun."

"You just seem so… I don't know. You talk about your fear as near crippling, but you don't _sound_ like you're afraid."

"Throw me in a lake and you'll see just how _un_afraid I can be. It will consist of many shouted swears, a screamed curse upon your lineage, and my death. I don't mean to turn this to me; I just wanted you to know that we all have completely irrational fears."

"Yeah, I know" the blond knight smiled before taking another sip of water. The two warriors remained in companionable silence for a little while. "Didn't Duncan or the other Wardens try to cure you of your fear?"

"Did they try to help you?" she returned.

"I didn't know Duncan, or the others, my whole life." Alistair countered and Nali grinned.

"Sure, they tried to help, fruitlessly. Well, Duncan never did – he was content to leave me alone in both my beliefs and fears, – but Tarimel was insistent in trying to teach me to swim. He threw me into a pond once, when I refused to get in and dunk my head. I nearly drowned. I was so angry, Duncan too. He chewed Tarimel out for hours and Gregor had to hold me back from beating the elf up, so instead I didn't talk to him for a week."

Alistair shook his head at her words. "I've noticed something," he said. "All your stories you've told me of your time with the Wardens involve them somehow being mean to you." Nal laughed loudly at that. The sound echoed and bounced across the thaig, causing the others to look at the two. She didn't notice the flush that stained Alistair's check in the dim light.

"I'm sure you haven't noticed, but I have a bit of a temper." She said when she calmed down. "They enjoyed seeing what could 'rouse the sleeping dragon,' as they put it." Nal allowed herself to briefly filter through the memories of time she spent with her friends.

"They were never cruel, not intentionally. We'd do whatever we could to torment each other and try Duncan's legendary patience. Duncan used to say that he may not have children of his blood, but he had a pack of them following him around every day." _You're adults. Perhaps you should consider acting like one sometime._ Duncan's voice ran through her head. "And we were. We were children and the world was our playground."

"I know what you mean," Alistair smiled, obviously thinking about the time he himself had spent with the Wardens. He looked like he was about to say something more when a shout echoed across the thaig.

"No! It's mine! There's nothing here for you! Stay away!" A short, hunched figure briefly appeared in the light the torches cast before darting down a branching tunnel and vanishing in the darkness. A chill swept over Nali as she watched him run past. It was a nasty, dirty, slimy feeling and in no way pleasant. _Ghoul, _the word hissed through her mind.

"That was weird," Alistair said slowly, staring where the dwarf had vanished.

"Come on ladies and gents," Mat said, "we're going after him."

"No," Nal said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," Nal repeated. "I'm not going after him. You can, but I'll find the path we'll need to continue forward." Mat's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed as he studied her for a few seconds, staring her in the eye.

"Fine," he conceded his voice hard. He turned to head the way the ghoul dwarf had gone. "Alistair, go with her."

"What?" He balked.

"I don't want her going alone. We shouldn't be long. Try to keep Nali out of trouble." Mat didn't wait for a response he simply turned and moved away. Nal was able to catch the echo of a few muttered words consisting of: "hate," "eye patch," and, "impossible to stare down." She smirked and moved off, not watching the rest of the party move away with Mat. Alistair fell into step beside her, shield and sword still out and ready.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence back there." Nal rapped the butt of her glaive twice on the ground. The blade ignited, illuminating the immediate area.

Alistair at least had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry," he said. "It's not that I don't want to go with you, but… well are you sure this is safe? There's only two of us, and I can sense darkspawn everywhere. And do you even know the path we need to take? What if it's back there?" He nodded his head back the way they came.

"Don't worry about the darkspawn, we'll be fine."

"You say that with such _confidence_."

"That's because I am. To answer your question however, Mat and the others are going to a dead end; the way forward is to not follow the _other_ insane dwarf."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"'It's mine. There's nothing for you here. Stay away.' Sounds like he doesn't want us near something. I'd say he was heading to his stash and even an insane dwarf would know to put his back against a wall. One way in, one way out, and one way to attack. Plus, I got a glimpse of the maps a few sleepless campsites ago."

"Couldn't you have just said that in the beginning?"

"Too easy. And it's not like I _know_ the correct way. But the map said it should be in this direction. It shouldn't be too hard to spot though."

"You talk big, but you don't have a clue what you're doing."

Nal laughed. "Even if that was the case I'm a far sight better than you."

"Oh, ouch. Has anyone ever told you, you're a horrible, mean person?"

"More times than you can count."

"I rest my case."

Nal paused as a chill swept over her, crawling down her spine and through her bones. They had entered into a narrow passage between two cobweb-covered buildings, their tall walls, and the blackness around them, blocked off most of her sight. It was a little too late to realize the poor positioning they were in. She started when Alistair bumped into her, his attention focused elsewhere.

"Sorry," he murmured quietly then asked, "Do you feel that?"

"I do," Nal confirmed. Staring into the dark, trying futilely to see through.

"What _is_ it? It doesn't feel like darkspawn, but…" he trailed off.

"It does," Nal finished her hand tightening around the wood of her glaive. "The only time I've felt something like this was when–" she was cut off by loud screeching. The two of them jumped, hefting their weapons. The sound of skittering legs echoed through the dark.

"Oh Maker," Alistair moaned. "It's spiders." He turned to face opposite way, pressing his back to hers. They waited; the only sound in the darkness was the arachnid's chittering. "Why aren't they attacking?"

"You'll get yourself killed in that position, Alistair."

"Wha…?"

"Back to back is not a good set up for me."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you're right." He stepped away giving her room.

"It's very kind of you to forget though," she flashed him a smile.

"Sure, I do my best. But I still want to know why they aren't attacking."

"I'll be sure to ask before I kill them." Nal squinted, shifting her glaive to get a better look at something shimmering strangely before her. She swore. "Move forward, we need to go forward."

"What? Why don't we go back?"

"Because the spiders have removed that option." He turned around at her words. The flickering fire of her glaive was softly reflecting off a netting of web being lowered before them, filling the narrow space between buildings. Alistair swore, using the same word she had earlier.

"Can't you burn it?" Alistair asked, panic pitching his voice higher.

"I'd light the whole thaig on fire! We wouldn't make it out of this passage alive."

"But they're herding us…"

"Yes, they are apparently used to hunting things that…" She gave him a nudge in the directing the spiders were pushing them, "think." Alistair turned forward and stood right behind her once again. This time Nal thought it would probably be a fine position to stand. "It seems it's either move forward into their trap – with a slight chance of living – or be caught in the web and be killed now."

"We should probably pick the one where we might live, huh?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's our best option." Nal backed away from the web as Alistair moved forward, her wings pressing into him. They moved slowly enough that they weren't rushing, but quick enough to stay ahead of the net.

The buildings gave away into an open area. In the thaig's prime perhaps it had been a forum, but from what Nal could now see, it looked like a lair.

The net dropped, cutting off the way they came. If someone asked Nal to give an emotion to the spider's chittering, she would have picked excited.

"Nali," Alistair's voice was barely a whisper. "You might want to see this."

She turned around, facing into the ex-forum, to stand beside Alistair. In front of them was the largest spider she had ever seen. Its black chitin skin was split open in places oozing a white ichor. Sharp protrusions, glistening with what was probably venom, jutted from its legs like blades. The eight eyes of the spider were focused solely on its prey and they shone maliciously in the flickering fire light.

The spider was obviously corrupted with the taint.

"Oh shi…" Nali's swear was drowned out by the spider screeching as it charged the two warriors.

* * *

Cliff-hanger!

So I was doing more research with a friend about what kind of weapon Nali wields. He said it was not a glaive (which I agreed to, but countered with I couldn't find anything closer), but after a thorough searching (he was the one that found it and he was very proud of that I might add) we came across a Yari. Which is a Japanese spear, however they made a 'straight yari' which was basically a double-bladed dagger stuck on a pole. This is now the closest thing to what Nali wields.

So I have a question for all of you and I would appreciate the feedback. Should I go back and change every mention of the word 'glaive' to 'yari' or should I stick with glaive. I personally would prefer to stay with glaive since I don't see a lot of Japanese people in Dragon Age and it maintains the slight feel of European/English in the game. However, I'm willing to change if you all think it would be better to maintain more accuracy to weapon stylization. No feedback will result in my choice of sticking to 'glaive.' Thank you all for your time and your responses (maybe).


End file.
